Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered
by Evie Delacourt
Summary: Sextus Arilan, black sheep of the Arilan family, has enjoyed a life of carefree irresponsibility for far too long, but all good things must come to an end. Might his freedoms eventually be replaced by even greater joys? Perhaps...if Sextus can survive all the pestersome females in his life and the challenges they keep throwing in his way!
1. Chapter 1

**Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered**

**Chapter One**

_April 1, 1134_

_The Fox and Hounds, Nyford_

I sipped at the sour ale, the best available at the Fox and Hounds, belatedly remembering why I had been so glad to leave this inn after my previous stay in this beneath-humble establishment eight years earlier. I'd not visited this den of dubious quality since, even though I'd been sent to Nyford on the King's business a time or two since that January when my brother Seisyll had sent me on a quest to discover which band of brigands had been responsible for a lady's father's untimely death and her brother's grievous injuries, and to bring them to the attention of the Earl of Carthane so he could administer the King's justice. That wronged lady was now my sister-in-law, and her brother Sir Stefan and I had both narrowly escaped our own untimely demises just one brief year ago at the hands of another in-law who was not nearly as pleasant to be around as our sweet, gentle Sophie.

Eight long years, and the ale at the Fox and Hounds had not improved one whit. One good reason I generally spent my evenings at the King's Arms Inn, if I had business in Nyford that prevented me from simply begging a pallet by the hearth at Kestrel Mote, Stefan's nearby manor. But the King's Arms had been full when I'd arrived the night before, and I knew Stefan and his family were currently in Rhemuth, so I'd returned here, thinking perhaps conditions might had improved since my last visit. I was wrong.

The ale had not been the only deterrent, either. The sounds of loud shrieking burst forth from the adjoining kitchen, again reminding me of the gracious hospitality I had enjoyed—or not—during my last visit. "Bloody 'ell, y'brat, ye've burnt th' stew again!" I couldn't see the harpy who was yelling, nor could I see the hapless cook who was, from the sounds of things, getting the crap beaten out of him. The scorched taste had been the least of that stew's problems, I had thought. I'd had a bigger problem with the large bit of moldy…something…I'd had to scoop out of the bowl with the crust of stale bread I'd been served along with it. But to each his or her own, I supposed.

Another voice wailed briefly then uttered a string of profanities so impressive even I had rarely heard and even more rarely used a word or two in the long outburst. I was shocked. Not by the expletives themselves—I had to give credit for creative flair for those—but by the youthfulness of the voice bellowing them. Far too young to know such language, I'd have thought, unless those high tones belonged to a castrata.

I craned my neck around in curiosity, hoping for a glimpse of the poor lad beyond the open kitchen door. What I saw made me leap from my bench in reflexive protectiveness, for sprawled across the floor wasn't the lazy youth I'd half-expected to see, but a child. A girl-child, disheveled and—by the look of her—half feral, glaring up at her oppressor with fangs bared like a trapped mink's. She looked to be no more than half a decade old, though I might have laid odds on her nonetheless, given her fierceness, had I not seen the woman standing over her, iron fry-pan in hand, arm poised to strike at the fallen child.

I leaped through the doorway, reacting without thinking first, sword half drawn, the knightly code to protect the defenseless too ingrained in me to resist. I got a bite on the shin for my pains, and as I howled in outrage, the woman gazed at me in shock and dropped her fry-pan. "You!" she bellowed, one skinny finger pointed in my direction. "_You_ did this to me!"

I stared back. Say-huh-what? What in the hell was the slatternly shrew on about?

It took me a few moments, but then I recognized her. I had actually—God help me!—bedded this frightening parody of so-called fragile womanhood before...once, on my last evening of that ill-starred visit to Nyford, the night before she'd thrown crockery at my departing back for being a penny short her usual fee. I wondered what attractions I had seen in her during my callow youth. It could hardly have been her gilded beauty or her soft, melodious voice. Oh wait…I remembered now, she'd been willing. That in itself would have excused a multitude of flaws. I offer in my own defense only one excuse—at the time, I was nineteen, she was swivable, and if she were only slightly less prickly than a hedgehog, at least I'd saved myself the bother of hunting down a hedgehog.

I stared down at the little girl. Blue-violet eyes stared back up at me from under a shock of jet black hair.

_Oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap…._

It couldn't be. And yet it was. I had made only one mistake during that other brief stay eight years before at the Fox and Hounds, and this, apparently, was the result.

Maybe I had misunderstood. Yes, surely so; sweet Jesú, a benevolent God could not possibly have a sense of humor that warped and wicked!

But no, He did.

"Take her, she's your daughter, you pence-pinching whoreson!" the tavern-keeper's daughter growled at me, kicking at the child. I interposed myself between her and the little girl before the foot could make contact, catching the toe of her boot beneath my right kneecap instead. "Take the sniveling little brat; I'm done!"

Aye, I had no argument with her on _that_ score. I might not have come to Nyford in search of a child—Jesú knows I'd have no clue what to do with one!—but I'd not leave even a mangy cur in the hands of a harridan like the one before me. There had to be some place that would take better care of her. I'd ask Sophie; surely she'd know.

I took a step back, suppressing a wince as a twinge of pain shot through my bruised shin, and helped the little girl off the floor. "Do you have any belongings to pack, child?" I asked awkwardly.

She shook her head, studying me mutely for a moment. "Yer no' a buggerer, are ye?" she asked finally, her Arilan eyes wary.

"I… bloody hell, no!" I stared at the pint-sized poppet in shock.

The cautious little wench assessed me with a tilt of the head that looked uncannily like my brother's. "A' right, then," she finally said with a shrug, "ye can't be no worse than me Mam, but if ye are, I s'pose I can run off." She gave a feral grin, displaying a nearly perfect set of baby teeth. "Don't try no funny stuff, though, or I'll bite."

I nodded, too stunned to think of a reply. She followed me out into the common room, where I tossed a penny onto the table—three farthings more than my meal and ale had been worth, in my estimation. Even a single copper farthing seemed excessive for _that_ quality of fare; I should have demanded payment for eating it! But I wasn't inclined to haggle. God knows what else might have been tossed at me if I had!

#

"So." I glanced down at the pint-sized urchin trotting along beside me. "What are you called, then?"

The girl's thin shoulders shrugged. "Brat."

"No, seriously. What's your name?"

The child looked up at me, confusion on her face. "I said it's Brat. Are ye half deaf, or jus' tetched in th' head?"

I took a deep breath, summoning up patience, and released it slowly. "What name was given to you at your christening?"

She stared up at me blankly. "What's that?"

I stopped in my tracks, turning to stare back down at her. "You know, your baptism." A horrible thought struck me. "You _were_ baptized, weren't you?"

'Brat' continued to stare up at me, perplexed.

"_Jesú_...Denis will crap bricks!" I muttered. This was a situation that had to be remedied at once, I knew. How this child had survived seven years with her Gorgon of a mother, I had no clue, but thank God she had! I didn't even want to imagine what sort of penance my uncle might exact on me for having a bastard child who'd died unbaptized. We were not taking another step further from Nyford until _that_ had been remedied, at least. I glanced around, wondering where I might find a source of clean water. Or did it actually have to be holy water, blessed by a priest? I knew in cases of need it was acceptable for a lay person to perform the rite, but I couldn't remember all the particulars anymore. What did midwives use? Denis had explained all this to me once, years ago; too bad I'd not been paying heed to him that day any more than I usually do.

There! Nyford Cathedral's spire lay just to the west, not more than a quarter mile distant. I altered my course and made for the comforting landmark.

#

I saw no sign of bishop or priest as we entered the main entrance to the Cathedral. Perhaps they'd sensed our unholy presence approaching consecrated ground on a day that wasn't Christmas or Easter, and had fled forthwith to seek out their missals and study up on exorcism. My child looked around, her awe over the majestic surroundings making her go slack-jawed. Glancing about, I saw the stoup of holy water just inside the door we'd just entered. Tipping the girl's head back, I quickly scooped up a handful of water, pouring it over her head while muttering, "_Ego te baptizo in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti._ There, _that's_ done!" If I'd mucked it up, hopefully God would understand, and Denis could always fix things later. He was good at that.

Brat's response to this sudden drenching was unrepeatable even in impolite company. I learned a few more new words that day.

#

"So, what's _yer_ name?" she asked me once we were on our way to Nyford Market.

"Sextus," I told her. "Sextus Arilan."

"Sextus?" She wrinkled her nose. "What sort o' queer name is _Sextus_?"

"It's a perfectly respectable name, I'll have you know!"

"Well, I sure wouldn't go short'nin' it!"

I rolled my eyes. "It's Latin for 'sixth.'"

The girl tilted her head curiously up at me. "And are ye?"

"Am I what?"

"Are ye th' sixth o' somethin'? Th' sixth son? Th' sixth baby?"

"Am I...? Oh! No, I'm named for my father and grandfather. He was Jamyl Sextus Arilan, the son of Michael Sextus Arilan, and I take my name from them."

She pursed her lips, considering this. "So, was either o' _them_ th' sixth o' somethin'?"

"Well...no, I don't think so."

"So it's just stupid, ain't it, bein' th' sixth o' nothin'? Where's th' sense in that?"

I sighed and shut up.

#

The square was filled with market stalls, people, wares and livestock, for it was a market day. I perused the offerings at hand, more out of a need to kill time than any actual interest in what was for sale or trade, for I was there to meet a man at an appointed hour. One merchant dealt in used goods, however, and after glancing at the grubby waif following along behind me, I decided she could use a lightly worn gown or two, if there were any small ones to be had. It would be bad enough showing up on my brother's doorstep with a by-blow in tow; having her show up wearing what looked to be an old feed sack tied at the middle would be even worse.

There wasn't any place I could bathe her before our return to Tre-Arilan, aside from a nearby horse trough, but that would hardly be doing a favor to the horses. No, there was no hope of presenting the urchin to my family completely clean and prettied up, but at the very least I could make sure she didn't look like she'd spent every moment of her seven years of life in a hog wallow.

I dug in my belt pouch, counting out a few coins. "What do you have that would fit a small girl?" I asked.

The man turned from arranging his wares, glancing at me and my young charge. "That 'un?" He gave a piglike snort. "Not much. Lemme see here…." He dug around at the bottom of a bin, eventually coming up with a couple of small tunics that looked like they might have been designed for older boys. "These might work, if ye belt 'em up good an' tight an' roll up th' sleeves a bit."

I held them up to her skinny frame. They looked to me as if they might swallow her whole, but even that was an improvement over the tattered rags she'd left the Fox and Hounds in. "How much?" I asked the merchant. He quoted a figure, I gave a counter-offer, and eventually we settled on a price. I handed the tunics to my foundling. She stared at them in disbelief.

"Here, put these on."

She gave me a wary look. "You ain't plannin' on sellin' me here, are ye?"

"No, of course not! I'm just trying to make you look a bit more...presentable."

She stared up at me a long moment, then shrugged, snatching the tunics out of my hands and wriggling her skinny little eel-like body into both, wearing both garments over her original clothes, long sleeves dangling down nearly to her ankles. Not exactly the look I had in mind, but this didn't seem to be the place or time to argue the point. I studied the child, tossing an extra farthing at the merchant to purchase a linen sash and tying the length of fabric around her waist, hitching up the extra length of the tunics so she wouldn't trip and rolling up the sleeves until they ended in thick cuffs at the wrist. "That should do for now," I told her. "I'll see if your Aunt Sophie can alter them to fit once I get you home."

#

The man I was to meet finally showed up, nearly an hour late and without the information I'd come to collect. Oh, he claimed to have it, and for almost half an hour I wasted my time listening to him blow a lot of hot air at me—garlic-smelling hot air, at that—but only half of what he had to say was actually true, or at least not an outright fabrication. Still, he expected payment at the end of the long spiel. I had to admit, his tale seemed to hang together well enough and he told it quite convincingly. If I weren't a skilled Truth-Reader, I might have actually believed him.

"What sort of fool do you take me for?" I asked him once he was done.

"It's the God-honest truth, may God blind me if it ain't," he told me, looking affronted. "And you promised me two marks for it; that was the deal."

"Half a mark ought t' buy ye a right good cane an' even a beggar's cup, wi' coin left over t' put in it," Brat wisecracked, her expression skeptical.

I fought down the urge to laugh, simply raising a brow at my informant. "See? Even a child can see through your story. Sorry, better luck some other day, when you can be bothered to bring me news worth paying for." Still, some of it had been useful. I flipped him a vice-royal from the royal purse, since the few bits of truth he had thrown in with his lies might be of interest to Kelson. He bristled and blustered a bit, but after realizing he would get no more out of me, decided to call it a day.

Once he had gone, I turned my attention to the girl, studying her speculatively. How _had_ she known?

"He was gulling you," she told me solemnly.

"I know. Question is, how did _you_ know?"

She shrugged. "I just do."

#

There was nothing left to do in Nyford besides wait until late night, when we could slip undetected into Nyford Cathedral to access the Transfer Portal there, returning to Tre-Arilan the same way I'd arrived. It was either that or walk the short distance to Kestrel Mote—not too distant for me, that is, though considerably longer for a child's shorter legs—in hopes of borrowing a horse there and taking a few days to ride back. I had no idea if my daughter had ever even been on a horse before or not, though I doubted she had; horses were costly to buy and maintain, and no one working at the Fox and Hounds out of necessity would be able to afford the luxury of one. And if one _could_ afford a horse and still chose to work at the Fox and Hounds...well, I don't think even Brat's mother was _that _mental.

"Are you hungry?" I asked the child. She looked at me as if I'd said something irredeemably stupid, which—after a moment's thought—I realized I had. "Of course you are!" I stopped by a hot food vendor, reaching in my pouch for a penny. "Would you prefer the soup or the stew?" I asked her, pointing to two pots set into the low counter.

The girl looked as if she could hardly believe her luck. She pointed to the stew. I nodded to the cook, handing him the penny. "Two, please."

He pocketed the coin, ladling out two bowls of hot stew. The fragrant steam made my mouth water, helping to banish the memory of the dismal fare I'd broken my fast with that morning. We withdrew to a trestle table and devoured the meal in silence.

#

We killed time in the streets of Nyford until well past dusk. I was astonished to discover that the child was less familiar with her own town than I was; clearly she'd not been allowed to venture far from her birthplace at the Fox and Hounds in her short lifespan, though the stories she told me about her life in that godforsaken establishment were horrific enough to make my blood boil. I briefly entertained the notion of going back and torching the place, but that would have left several rats homeless, and I had no desire to be needlessly cruel to the rats of Nyford. Besides, I doubted I could wield a half-mile long torch with any great skill, and I had no great longing to approach any closer than that to the harpy who'd flung this child at me earlier in the day. With my luck, there'd be a twin in hiding somewhere just waiting to receive his patrimony.

At last the hour grew late, and we made our way back towards the Cathedral. To my surprise, there was a priest kneeling before the altar. I glanced down at the girl. "Follow my lead," I whispered, "but hang back a short distance until I tell you to join me, and say nothing unless directly spoken to." She nodded, again looking awed by the ornate surroundings.

I moved forward to join the priest kneeling at the rail. He seemed briefly startled by my sudden appearance, but he relaxed as I whispered, "Father, may I make my Confession to you?"

"Of course, my son," he replied.

I bowed my head, inching closer to him. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been…um…twenty-six days since my last Confession." Less than a month; Uncle Denis would be so proud, if he knew. "Eight years ago, I lay with a woman who was not my wife, and she bore me a daughter. I just found out today." I tilted my head to indicate the young girl lingering several feet behind us, tracing a pattern in the stone floor with her toe. "Giving her a proper upbringing would be a just and fair penance, wouldn't it, Father?" I asked hopefully.

The priest gazed at my daughter in dismay before turning stern eyes back to me. "It's a start," he grudgingly allowed. I didn't want to hear what else he might tag on to what already seemed like a quite steep price for absolution, so giving him a gentle mental probe, I swiftly added, "And there's one more thing, Father." _There_ it was! I touched the requisite trigger point within his mind, watching with satisfaction as he fell asleep, nodding forward slightly against the rail. "I do apologize for making you sleep, but you'll wake up in a few minutes feeling quite refreshed and remembering only that…ah…you gave me whatever penance seems right to you under the circumstances. Sleep well, Father!"

#

It was easy enough to gain access to the Transfer Portal in the sacristy after that; a bit harder, I discovered, to bring the girl through it than I'd anticipated.

"Now, this might seem a bit strange," I had told her in advance, not wanting to scare her. "I'm going to take your hand and we're going to stand on this stone here," I said, tapping at the floor with my foot to indicate the stone in question. "You might feel a bit of a tingle when you step on it. If you do, that's normal."

She just stared up at me. "Ye're an odd duck," she told me.

"Yes…well…so are you." I stepped onto the stone, holding out my hand. "In a moment, you might feel an odd sensation, but don't be frightened by it. You might not see anything for a heartbeat or two, but when your vision clears, you'll see…a different place."

The stare grew more incredulous. "Man, are ye mental?"

I choked back a laugh. "No, truly I'm not. Just trust me, all right?"

She gave me a dubious look, but joined me on the Portal stone. I took her hand, reaching out with my mind to establish a link between us, but came up hard against shields. Not well formed shields, it was true, for she was very young and completely untrained, but the rudimentary beginnings of shields at any rate.

"What th' f—" The rest of her exclamation was muffled by my hand, for I didn't want to think of what the penance might be for completing _that_ utterance in a Cathedral sacristy. She bit me.

"Sorry, there; I wasn't expecting that clash of shields! I _should_ have, but I didn't." I studied the girl in consternation. "I'm new to this fatherhood thing. All right, it would help if you could lower your shields. Do you know how to do that?"

She stared at me uncomprehendingly.

"I don't suppose you know what we are?" I tried.

She edged slightly away from me. "O' course I do! I'm a girl, an' ye're…ye're barkin' mad, I think!"

There was no help for it. "All right, let's try this another way." I grabbed her wrist again, passing the fingers of my other hand quickly over her forehead, hoping to make her sleep. Her shields reacted instinctively, deflecting my mental probe.

"Wha' th' hell are ye doin', ye nutter?" she asked, wincing as she tried to wrench free of my grip.

I sighed, releasing her. It was clear I'd make no headway—no jest intended—going that route. What I needed was some way to get her to lower her shields, but I didn't think this was the appropriate time or place for the all-important 'Did you know that you're a Deryni?' question. Almost certainly the answer would be no, and there was no telling what her mother might have told her—if anything—about our race. She _was_ Nyford bred, after all. The last thing I needed on my hands was a terrified child screaming her head off in a church sacristy where we had no business even being, drawing attention to us and to the sleeping priest in the nave.

No,I certainly didn't want to try talking her through, not until we knew each other a bit better and I was fairly certain she wouldn't panic at the mention of the "D" word. Subtlety would be required here, but I hadn't much time. Soon, I knew, the priest would awaken. We'd need to be gone from Nyford before that happened.

I'd need to find some way to render the child unconscious, or at least relaxed and sleepy enough to roll back her shields on her own, but I couldn't bring myself to simply cosh a seven-year-old over the head. I glanced around the room, seeking some source of inspiration. My gaze landed on a nearby wine bottle.

No. No no no no no! I could _not_ get the child soused on sacramental wine! Denis would slay me before he even thought to assign a penance or absolve me.

Still, now that the idea had formed in my head, it would not let me go. Surely it was merely a bottle of wine, not pre-consecrated, right? Did wine come to the Cathedral already blessed, set aside from the very start for its holy purpose, or was that something a priest did after pouring it into the chalice? Oh, Jesú, why hadn't I listened properly when Denis had nattered on about this before? I was sure he must have done so at _some_ point, even if I couldn't remember such a conversation anymore.

I uncorked the wine and took a cautious sniff. It smelled like Fianna. Right, then. Just regular, if quite divine-smelling, Fianna—nothing at all out of the ordinary, at least for men with a deeper coin-purse than mine.

I realized belatedly that it was the Eucharistic rite that consecrated the sacramental elements. So in that case, it wouldn't be sacrilege for us to drink this fine Fianna, would it, since I had no intention of assuming a priestly office? It wasn't consecrated yet, nor could I make it so, not being a priest, therefore it was not yet the Holy Blood of Christ. It was merely Fianna—lovely, conveniently located Fianna.

Safe enough, then. I took a cautious sip straight from the bottle, for I knew better than to compound my transgression—_if_ I were committing one—by sullying the Chalice.

I waited for heavenly lightning to strike me dead for my presumption. It didn't. I took that as permission to proceed. Crouching in front of my child, I held the bottle out to her with a winning smile. "Here, sweeting. I'm sorry if I made your head ache. I never meant to, but this should help take the edge off."

She took a cautious sip. "Ye're sure 'bout this?" she asked me, handing the bottle back.

"Absolutely," I told her with a conviction I was far from feeling. I took another swig, watching her face, and returned the bottle to her.

She took another deep swallow, and then another. After a fourth gulp, she gave me a tentative smile. "It's a bit warm goin' down, ain't it? But it's right nice. Though I'm startin' t' feel a bit queer..." Her eyelids drooped.

"Sleepy, are you?" I took the bottle back from her, corking it and starting to return it to the table where I'd found it, but hastily reconsidered. No, better a missing bottle of wine than one returned half empty with the mouth covered with Deryni spit! I'd best finish this off myself later.

I tucked the bottle under one arm and took the child in hand, leading her drowsy form to the Transfer Portal, gently probing at her mind as I did so. As I expected, her shields had quite fallen away. I established a link between us and carried her through the Portal into inky blackness and, a heartbeat later, the comforting sight of Tre-Arilan's hidden ritual chamber.

#

She threw up Fianna wine and bits of stew meat all over Seisyll's feet. It wasn't the best of first impressions.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_April 2, 1134_

_Tre-Arilan_

The child looked a bit prettier, if rather tough and stringy, once Sophie and Annie had tackled the daunting task of bathing her and combing the snarls out of her hair. She sat glaring at me from the window seat, knees tucked under her chin, wearing one of my old tunics that swallowed her whole like Jonah's giant fish. Annie had taken the two I'd purchased the evening before away to launder and alter, for even in their brief wearing they had acquired the odor of gamy, unwashed urchin.

"So, how's everything going?" I asked Sophie, summoning up a smile for her as she turned to greet me with a look of forced patience.

"Well, enough, all things considered," she told me. "We've had a bath—three, to be more exact—and I had to take shears to her hair to get the worst of the tangles out, so it's only half the length it used to be, but it will grow out." My sister-in-law shrugged philosophically. "I suppose it could have been worse. She could have brought home lice. Fortunately her hair was too dirty for the nits to stick."

Yes, that was certainly a blessing in disguise. I forced myself not to visibly recoil from the child. It was hardly her fault if her mother's only concept of nurturing had been to toss scraps from the stew pot at the chit between volleys of expletives and the occasional iron pan.

Sophie pulled a ribbon from her basket and strode determinedly towards my daughter, who shrank into a corner of the window embrasure. "What's your name, love?" she crooned. Turning to look over her shoulder at me, Sophie added, "I couldn't get her to tell me earlier."

Brat sat mutely resigned as her aunt cornered her. Sophie pulled a comb from her belt and began to part the girl's hair, plaiting one side of it into a neat braid, then winding a length of ribbon around the end.

"I don't think she has one," I grudgingly admitted. "I asked her yesterday, but all she said was that her mother called her 'Brat.'"

Sophie tied off the end of the ribbon with a frown. "Well, that's hardly suitable!" She tilted Brat's chin up to smile down at her. "She's far too pretty for such a name. What would you like to rename her, Sextus?"

I stared at them both in dismay, for truly, I had no idea. My mother had been named Alix, but as I considered the idea of naming my daughter for her, I imagined her returning from her grave to haunt me for bringing home a bastard granddaughter, ululating at high pitch. No, perhaps not Alix then...but what? Javana? Jashana? Sophie?

"I...really have no idea, Sophie."

Seisyll's wife took another glance back at me. Whatever she saw in my face set her off into giggles. "You've never imagined this happening, have you, Sextus? Truly, have you never even considered the possibility that you might have a child out there?"

"Well, no, not any more than Sei—" Oh, sweet Jesú, let's not say _that_ to my brother's wife! "No more than any other man, I suppose. Maybe a vague notion now and again that it could happen, but I never really thought..." My voice trailed off as she raised an eyebrow at me.

"That's the problem right there, Sextus dear," she told me, her voice soft and sweet. "You never really _thought_. But now you're a father, so you need to acquire that skill." She turned to my daughter, her eyes going softer as she regarded the upturned face framed by half braided hair. "What about Amanda? It means 'beloved.'" Sophie smiled as she began to comb and plait the other side of the girl's hair.

"I…think that's an excellent name," I said, slightly dazed, for as Sophie had defined it, I'd seen the look of yearning cross the child's face. It had lasted only an instant, so brief that I might have imagined it, for immediately afterwards the wary street urchin had returned.

The girl. The urchin. The waif.

My child.

"Amanda," I repeated, testing out the sound of it. "I rather like it. Unless…Is there some other name that you'd prefer, child? Maybe…um…a name on your mother's side of the family?" I asked my daughter, realizing belatedly that a child who had reached the age of seven years without a proper name might have a few ideas on the matter.

She wrinkled her nose at me. "No. Ye think I want t' be called after me mam?" The choice expletive that followed the question left me in no doubt about her preference.

"What _is_ your mother's name, Amanda?" Sophie asked as she bound the second braid with the remaining ribbon.

"Huldah," she told us.

I grimaced. "Huldah?! Amanda keeps sounding better and better."

Sophie slanted a look at me. "Tell me you at _least_ knew her name."

I felt my cheeks warm. I hadn't. Or if I ever had, I'd long since forgotten.

#

I was called into Seisyll's study later that afternoon. His boots were only slightly the worse for wear after their deadly assault by Amanda's second-hand wine and stew. His squire must have managed to clean the leather quickly enough to spare it becoming too badly stained or damaged. There's a lad who would be giving me dark looks over the night's supper, I imagined.

Seisyll looked at me through narrowed eyes. "So. You've got a by-blow. Why am I not surprised? Any others out there I should know about?"

"Not that I know of, no." I watched him warily. "I _do_ know something about how to prevent that from happening." That had been one lecture I'd actually listened to, for once. It had helped that it had come from Seisyll and not from Denis. Seisyll presumably would know a lot more about the matter than our bishop uncle. He might have grown quite settled and boring since his marriage, but he, too, had once had a need to know such information.

"Yes. I see how well that has worked out for you, too." The sarcasm was served up desert dry. "Do we need a refresher course?"

"Give me a break, Seis! I was only nineteen at the time. I…ah…probably forgot."

"You forgot." His voice was deadly quiet, a danger sign. "And now you see the consequences of forgetting." He propped his elbows on his desk, steepling his fingers. "What am I to do with you, Sextus? What can I possibly do to help you become more responsible? I don't suppose I can very well dock your quarterly allowance; your child's a scrawny little thing, so God knows you'll need your coin to fatten the chit up and put some more suitable clothes on her back…." He trailed off, studying my face, then barked a short laugh. "Let me guess, you were hoping Sophie would take care of all that? That's not happening, boyo; so sorry to disappoint. No, she's _your_ child, and you'll be responsible for her."

"I _will _be!" I affirmed, affronted that he'd think otherwise.

"Damn straight."

"I can do this," I informed him, forcing down a few qualms. How hard could it be, after all, this whole fatherhood thing? Seisyll seemed to manage just fine, even when they were still in that half-unformed, piss-cloths and spit-up stage that gave me the shudders. Mine was much further along than that, so the hard work was done, right? I just had to figure out how to make the girl presentable. But she was an Arilan; she'd do fine. Eventually.

I forced down another qualm, looking my brother straight in the eye. "Amanda's my responsibility. But she's an Arilan; I'll not have her shunted away like she's…like she's something shameful." Even though, by most of society's standards at least, she was. Denis would doubtless be apoplectic to learn about her. Hopefully _he_ wouldn't decide to up my penance, or my scrawny little chit would have to remain scrawny a bit longer. "I expect her to be given the same treatment by our family that Jashana's son would have had, if she hadn't miscarried him."

Seisyll uttered a blistering string of curses. I might have been more impressed by its creativity, had I not recently been subjected to far worse by a seven-year-old.

I stood my ground. "She'll need tutoring, and since you've already engaged a tutor for Stefania and Jamyl, I don't see any reason why she can't take her lessons with them. I'll pay my portion of the costs, of course." I could feel my coin pouch shrinking already. Maybe Kelson would have some extra work for me soon. I hoped so. He was a more generous patron than my brother.

Seisyll gave me a curt nod. "You absolutely will." He pulled a sheaf of correspondence towards himself—a sign that the lecture was now over—but paused and looked back up at me as a sudden thought occurred to him. "Oh, and show the girl where the garderobes are. _All_ of them, Sextus. I've already had a report come back to me of her relieving herself on the floor rushes this morning in a corner of our Great Hall. I don't expect that she'll be fully domesticated by the end of the day, but I do expect the chit to be housebroken at the very least."

#

Denis managed to extricate himself from his busy schedule long enough to answer Seisyll's summons. Apparently, despite being far too overwhelmed with work to make it to Tre-Arilan more often than the occasional family celebration or side trip from his visits to Rhemuth might allow, the Bishop of Dhassa could somehow manage to drop everything if a reprobate nephew and his baseborn issue were involved. Lucky me. Not for the first time, I wished Jashana were still here, but no, she'd married and moved off to Llyr, where she was doubtless too busy counting how many times a bride could be moved to psychically enhanced coital ecstasies per evening to spare a thought for her poor younger brother. Jashana merely had to smile, and the gruff Bishop Arilan would soften and grow lenient. _I_ smile, and our stern uncle asks me what I'm up to and how many mortal sins it involves.

He arrived just in time for supper. In celebration of the occasion—or perhaps simply to hide the family shame from our manorial folk a little longer—Seisyll arranged for us to have a private meal in the solar rather than dining in the Great Hall with our full household as was the regular custom.

Denis sat in his usual position at Seisyll's right hand, looking at me with pursed lips. At least the children's presence at the table prevented him from asking me outright what doxy's spawn I'd managed to drag home. With my luck, Amanda would not have hesitated to inform her cousin Stefania exactly what a doxy was. Steffie was still pressuring her papa to buy her a pretty little Bird of Paradise ever since Denis's last attack of foot-in-mouth at the family table the previous winter.

He turned his attention to the children, the sour look on his face miraculously transforming to a genial smile. "So, how are your lessons progressing, Stefania?"

"Quite well, Uncle Denis," Seisyll's seven year old princess answered promptly. "Today I read another story from the primer and I practiced writing the alphabet and doing simple sums."

"Very good! And what of you, Jamyl?"

"I can write my name!" The four year old Arilan heir beamed proudly at his great-uncle. "Wanna see?"

Denis chuckled. "Perhaps later." He turned his gaze towards Amanda, the smile turning a bit more strained. "And you, dear…how was your first day of lessons?"

My daughter shrugged. "I learned t' ask t' be excused t' find a garderobe if I have t' fart at table."

Denis struggled for something kind to say. "Well…I suppose it's a start," he finally managed.

It was a moment to make a father proud.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_May 6, 1134_

_Market Square, City of Rhemuth_

I stared, bewildered, at the sempstress as she asked me a baffling series of questions. "Shall I make all the chemises out of linen, or will your daughter be requiring something finer like cotton for more formal occasions? And do you want whitework or blackwork on her coifs, or shall I leave them plain? And do you want her overgowns looser so they'll grow with her, or shall I make more fitted bliauts with adjustable lacing? I trust you'll want to add a few linen or cotton gowns to your order, not just wool—that would be rather hot in summer..." The woman frowned up at me as if convinced that I was an imbecile. Or perhaps I was merely an interloper in her world of female fripperies. Perhaps there was some unwritten law that fathers should not shop for their daughters. If so, I'd have been all too pleased to enter into the world of law-abiding fathers, but Seisyll had made it quite clear to his wife that she was not to continue clothing my daughter for me, but that I was to get on with the job of learning how to look out for her needs myself.

He had not, unfortunately, suggested to Sophie that I might need a translation manual.

"I...ah..." I looked helplessly down at Amanda, who looked as baffled as I was. "What would you like?" I asked.

She added her own miniature 'you're an idiot' look to the sempstress's. "Clean clothes that fit right," she informed me.

"Well...all right. I think we can manage that." My eyes roamed the fabric selections again, searching for something to cling to in desperation. "What about that fabric?" I asked, pointing to something shimmery that caught my eye. "It's pretty."

The sempstress looked horrified. "Oh, not for a child, surely! She'll get it dirty the first day, and it's very hard to get stains out of that. Unless you meant for it to be for a very special occasion, like Twelfth Night?"

I nodded quickly, hoping she'd think I'd meant that all along and that I was not completely hopeless. "Yes, of course. Something suitable for the occasional...ah...Court or something."

She eyed Amanda dubiously. I could tell she was thinking it was unlikely Amanda would be presentable for a Royal Court anytime soon. "My brother's court, that is," I said, casually resting my hand on my belt next to my coin pouch. Hopefully she'd assume my brother was somewhat higher in the nobility than he actually was.

Then again, if she did, would her prices go up accordingly? I discreetly withdrew my hand, clasping it with the other behind my back. "If you were garbing a daughter, what would _you_ order for her?"

"I suppose that would all depend on what my daughter's particular needs were that season," she supplied unhelpfully, her chin going up just a tad. I could see the challenge in her eyes. Jesú, did she think this was some bizarre game of mental cardounet? If so, I suspected I was back on the losing side again.

A quiet chuckle came from behind me, and a low, musical voice intervened. "Mistress Margot, for shame! Stop acting like a cat who's found a mouse to toy with; the poor man is clearly out of his element here."

I turned to smile gratefully at the speaker. The attempt at a smile nearly turned into a gape before I recovered my senses. I had no idea who the woman was, but she was stunning. Warm brown eyes framed by rich chestnut waves tucked under a neat fillet and barbette twinkled their amusement at me. Most likely a married lady, then. She appeared to be in her twenties, and surely such a beautiful young woman would have had several offers long before she'd left her teen years, unless she had some impediment. A quick glance at her clothing assured me that if she did, it was not likely to be poverty. Her garments were far from ostentatious, but they were of fine quality.

"Sir Sextus Arilan, I believe, are you not?"

"I…indeed I am, my lady!" I still could not place her face, but if she knew my name, we'd surely met at least once before. Had I…? No, _definitely_ not! I would have remembered if I'd ever bedded _this_ woman! I'd even have asked for her name first.

My second quick study of her only confirmed my first impression. She was noble-born, so unquestionably _not_ dalliance material.

The lady's smile grew, revealing perfect teeth. "You don't remember me, do you?" She laughed. "Don't worry about it; we only met the one time, and it was years ago. You hadn't even been knighted yet." She turned her smiling gaze downwards. "And who is this?"

I belatedly remembered where I was, and why. "Ah…may I present my daughter, Amanda?" I placed a hand on my daughter's shoulder, nudging it downward slightly in what I hoped was a subtle enough reminder for her to curtsey. She glared at me momentarily before remembering what that gesture was supposed to mean, and bobbed obligingly if somewhat awkwardly.

"Well met, Amanda," the baroness responded with a gracious nod of her head. "I'm the Baroness of Kinlochan. My eldest son is close to your age, I think; perhaps a little younger." She turned her attention back to me. "I didn't realize you had a daughter."

My cheeks warmed. I briefly considered inventing some face-saving story about a mad wife stashed away in the family undercroft, but if _that_ got back to Seisyll or—worse—the King, that would be even more embarrassing. "I didn't either until last month." Ah, well. News of my baseborn daughter would be the gossip _du jour_ among the Rhemuth Castle ladies for the next month, doubtless, but it was bound to get out sometime.

That quiet chuckle again. "I see. No wonder my father warned me about you! Well, you're clearly a fish out of water in here; would you like a bit of help in picking out Amanda's wardrobe?"

I took her up on the offer most gratefully.

#

By the end of the hour, we had put together a suitable collection of clothing sufficient to see my daughter through to the following spring at the very least, depending on how much she grew over the course of the coming year. The Baroness suggested leaving the hems of the winter gowns only lightly basted for now, saying that the hems could be stitched up more permanently once the seasons turned, for Amanda was likely to grow another inch or two before then and might need the hems let down a bit. I went along with her judgment, since I knew nothing about such matters. I'd always thought basting was something one did to meat, not to hems.

It was early afternoon by the time we had finished our shopping, and none of us had eaten since breaking our fasts at the beginning of the day. I paid for the purchases up front, not daring to have the bill sent back to Tre-Arilan for fear Seisyll would assume I'd meant the charges to go to him. No need to get him wound up all over again! The Baroness invited us to join her for a meal. I surreptitiously checked my pouch to make sure I had enough coin left over. It was far from fat, but the feel of a few spare pence within assured me we could enjoy a meal or even two on the town before returning home. I was glad. Not just because I didn't want to come across as impoverished before this stunning specimen of womanhood; I also wanted to spend a bit more time drinking in the sight of her, hopefully getting to the bottom of the mystery of how she knew me. An afternoon meal in public seemed a safe enough venue for getting better acquainted with a lovely lady so far beyond my reach, especially one chaperoned by my far too worldly seven-year-old.

"The Gold Lion Inn usually has good fare," I mentioned as we strolled through Market Square together. "It's just up ahead, across from Saint Bart's."

"Oh, aye, it does; I've had a meal or two there before. But if you don't mind walking just a little further, I can provide better." She smiled. "And without cost to your purse."

Who was I to argue? I let her lead the way.

#

We arrived at a modest but well appointed home just about a quarter of a mile southeast of Market Square, not too far beyond the road that led up to Rhemuth Castle. An elderly man let us in, bowing his obeisance to his lady as we entered. She smiled up at him. "Piers, this is Sir Sextus Arilan and his daughter Amanda. We'll be dining in the courtyard, if you could please have something brought out for us?"

"Of course, my lady." The old retainer bowed yet again, leaving us in the Hall. I studied the arms above the mantel. They looked familiar. I tried to visualize the Baron associated with that shield device, but his face didn't come to mind.

"My husband was Baron Edgar Moreau," the Baroness supplied. I turned to face her again. "This way." She smiled down at Amanda. "My sons are probably playing outside with their nurse, as is their habit this time of day. They'll enjoy having a playmate."

I was glad her back was turned to us as we followed her to the courtyard. While the baronial arms had sparked no memories, Baron Edgar's name did. I remembered him—vaguely—as an older gentleman, balding and somewhat portly, with a keen enough intellect but few of the other attributes likely to stir the heart of a young maiden to thoughts of love. Had she been given to him in an arranged match, then? Surely she must have been; that was the norm, after all, but it was doubtful that fond affection had played much of a role in her betrothal to the man. Had she learned to love him after the match had been made?

It was none of my business, I knew, but still, the late Baron of Kinlochan had been at least thrice his wife's age, at best guess. The baroness's parents must have considered the match a quite brilliant one, to have considered it for her. Wealth and title could certainly buy youth and beauty in a wife, it would seem.

The Baroness opened a door, ushering us into a courtyard garden. Lush blooms surrounded the periphery, the fragrance of climbing roses wafting through the air. On the other side of a small courtyard, two boys looked up from their play. They beamed at their mother, who waved them over with a laugh, hugging both somewhat gingerly, since they were quite dirt-stained from their outdoor play. Their nurse followed close behind, admonishing them quietly not to be too exuberant in their welcome until both had had a chance to wash up.

"Aldwyn, Taggert, this young lady is Amanda. Please make her feel welcome. Moira, have they dined yet?" I glanced at my daughter as the Baroness spoke. She looked startled, momentarily looking around for the young lady in question before realizing it was herself.

"Not yet, m'lady; I was about to bring them in, though."

"No need; just have them freshen up and ask Piers if he can set up a separate table for the children, if you please. I have an offer of business I wish to discuss with Sir Sextus." I was surprised to hear this; it was the first hint she'd made of such an offer. "If you'd like to have a rest from the boys while they eat, you may. I'll bring them back to the nursery once we're done here."

"Aye, m'lady."

#

We watched the children at their meal as we sat across the courtyard from them. To my profound relief, Amanda didn't disgrace herself too badly; apparently a month in my sister-in-law's influence was beginning to have some effect on her deportment. My heart leaped into my throat for a brief moment as she began to lift the edge of the tablecloth to wipe her mouth once, but she remembered in time and dropped it to reach for a napkin instead. I began breathing again and turned my attention back to what the Baroness was saying.

"Have you remembered our first meeting yet?" she asked, a slight smile tugging at her lips.

I brought my wine cup to my lips, stalling for time. It was a fine vintage, not a Fianna, but close enough in quality. I sipped at it appreciatively.

"I'm embarrassed to admit I haven't, my lady. I rarely forget a face, so I confess myself quite baffled."

She laughed. "It would have been a little over ten years ago. You were still a squire, as I recall." She grinned as I continued trying to dredge up the memory. "Do you recall the King asking you to give a knight's family a tour of Rhemuth Castle? It would have been in late November. We had just arrived for Christmas Court, and it was my first visit to Rhemuth. I was just fourteen at the time, barely come into womanhood, and Father thought it was time I should be presented at Court to make the acquaintance of suitable men in hopes of finding a husband for me."

A visit to Rhemuth ten years ago? I suppressed a chuckle. Probably in hopes of her catching Kelson's eye, I thought. Fathers and their daughters had turned out in droves in those days, each fond father hoping his own lovely maiden would turn the young King's head enough to be chosen as the future Queen of Gwynedd, despite the long odds against most such potential matches. Kelson had been hard pressed to play the gracious host to them all while ignoring them equally as politely as he could. I had taken several such families on castle tours, as had Seisyll and doubtless every other squire and knight in service to the Haldane Court who happened to be at hand when lords and ladies with unwed daughters first arrived at Rhemuth Castle.

"I gave several such tours, I'm afraid, my lady."

The Baroness simply smiled and took another dainty bite of her meat pie, chewing it slowly as she studied me. After a short while, she added, "My name was Avisa Taggert back then. Try to recall a tall, gangly, mostly silent chit who towered above her mother by a head and was making doe eyes at you the entire tour, probably not nearly as discreetly as I'd hoped." The brown eyes facing me danced with laughter.

Wait…something about those eyes sparked a memory. I stared at her in disbelief. "Wait a moment…. I might remember…." No, it couldn't be! For a brief moment, I had a flash of recollection of a gawky, hopelessly awkward young innocent being led to the slaughter—or so one might have imagined as she was presented to the young King in Court that November afternoon—and the strained but mercifully brief exchange of words between gracious King and nervous maiden before duty was satisfied and Kelson handed mother and daughter off to me with a barely masked look of relief on his face. But this couldn't be the same woman, for that maiden I had escorted around Rhemuth Castle ten years ago had been…. "Um…were you somewhat tall for a young maiden and rather on the…ah...slender side?"

The Baroness laughed again. "If by that you mean was I scrawny and gangly, with a figure like a freshly-planed board, an unfortunate complexion, and hopelessly shy and awkward, yes, that would have been me."

"Um. Well. You've…changed a bit."

The eyes danced over her goblet. "So have you…though not quite as much, I'll admit."

I felt my cheeks warm slightly. "So. You did manage to land a husband after all, I take it?"

She took a sip of her wine. "Eventually. Once I reached my full growth and stopped looking like a homely lad with long braids. Edgar offered for me at Twelfth Night of 1126. We married the following June."

Ah yes, January of 1126, a fateful month. While the young Baroness-to-be was still admiring her new betrothal ring, I'd been getting soused and swived in Nyford. I glanced across at the children's table. Amanda was just polishing off her meal and, from the looks of it, half of little Taggert's as well. I hoped the extra portion had been voluntarily offered.

"Well, you seem to have done quite well for yourself," I said, glancing around at her comfortable surroundings.

She shrugged. "I can't complain. Edgar was kind, indulgent even, and at least I was able to give him the heir and spare he so dearly wanted for Kinlochan." The light in her eyes dimmed slightly as she looked across the garden at the children. "We had a daughter as well—our firstborn—but she died before she drew breath. I'd hoped for another chance at one, but unfortunately my husband died on me." She returned her attention to me with a wry smile. "Ah, well. The fortunes of life."

"I'm sorry. Was your husband ill for very long?"

A corner of her lips twitched slightly. She dropped her gaze demurely, her cheeks turning slightly rosy. "Well, no, we were _literally_ trying for a daughter when he died on me. A heart seizure, his physician said. I'm told he felt no pain."

If she'd meant what I thought she did, doubtless he hadn't. What a way to go; the man had probably died smiling! I looked away from the Baron's fetching young widow, trying to banish the image that had just flitted through my head. What the hell could I say in response to _that _revelation?

"You're young yet, my lady. You could still remarry. I can't imagine you not receiving other offers." Even as a Dowager Baroness holding her late husband's land in her son's stead until he could gain the age of majority, she'd have no lack of suitors for her hand, I was certain. If her Rhemuth home was anything to go by, Baron Edgar had left his widow well provided for. And even if he hadn't, she certainly had no lack of other attractions.

She laughed again, the merry light returning to her eyes. "Now, why would I want to do that? I quite like my independence, thank you! Though that does bring me around to my reason for inviting you here." The baroness grinned. "I didn't ask you over just so I could gawk at you again, delightful as that is, or to feed your skinny little offspring. Mercy, Sir Sextus, she's like a plucked squab! Where did all that food go; does she have a hollow leg?"

I turned to glance at Amanda. To my horror, she was finishing off the rest of Aldwyn's meal. I opened my mouth to call out a reprimand, but the Baroness touched my arm, catching my eye and shaking her head. "No, it's quite all right, let it go." Her eyes softened as she watched Amanda lick the last crumbs of pastry off her fingers. "Where was she living before she came to live with you?"

I sighed. "At a tavern in Nyford. Her mother was...neglectful. I apologize for her lack of manners; I've only had her a few weeks..."

"So I gathered." Her eyes were warm with sympathy. "A bit difficult for you, I would imagine, having to adjust to fatherhood all at once? Most men get a few months to warm up to the idea, after all. How much warning did you have?"

"Hm." I pondered the question. "You mean between 'She's your daughter' and 'Get out and take her with you, you sorry git?' About that long."

"I'm sorry. How did your brother react to you bringing home an unexpected niece?"

I stared at her, startled. "How do you know so much about me, my lady?"

The amused light gleamed in her eyes once again. "Forgive me, Sir Sextus, but you _were_ my one and only raging case of calf love as a young maiden. I...may have made a few inquiries, back in the day."

My face grew hot. I gave a self-conscious laugh. "I'm flattered, my lady." I glanced back at the playing children, regathering my composure. "So. Seisyll. He was...um...less than amused. He thinks me a bit of a wastrel anyway, and...well..." I flipped my hand palm-upwards towards my daughter.

"So prove him wrong." The baroness gave me a faintly challenging smile. "I have a proposition for you, Sir Sextus."

I stared back at her. "What...sort of proposition, my lady?"

Her eyes danced up at me. "Don't worry, your virtue—such as it is—is quite safe."

_Damn._

"It's a business offer, Sir Sextus. I'm in need of a steward, someone who can manage my properties. I currently have three stewards—one in charge of my son's Kinlochan estate management, one in charge of the domestic household there, and Piers, whom you met earlier. He manages my Rhemuth holdings. He's aging, though, and would like to retire to Kinlochan soon to spend his remaining years with his family. I would prefer to hire a man who would also be able to act as my amanuensis when I'm in residence—do you write with a neat hand?"

I blinked at the unexpected question. "It's neat enough. I'm no professional scribe, but I write with a clear hand. But if I may ask, my lady, why me?"

She shrugged. "Why _not_ you? I'll confess I didn't have anyone specifically in mind to ask until I happened to see you this morning. I'd planned to ask the King if he could provide a recommendation, since Kinlochan _is _in his duchy after all. But the King's quite a busy man—it might be days before I could secure a private audience—and I'll wager you've had some practice in managing your brother's lands in his absences, haven't you?"

"Well...yes."

"If you were to accept my offer, I'd want for you to train both here and at Kinlochan. My barony isn't very far out from Rhemuth. It's about half a day's ride for me, but that's by coach, traveling with young children. Faster, if one rides unencumbered."

I glanced at my daughter, who was making her new playmates giggle, though I couldn't quite tell how at this distance. I had to admit, the job offer was tempting. A steward's position would surely pay more than I was receiving from Seisyll.

There was, however, one possible impediment. "I have the occasional mission in the King's service that might call me away for periods of time, my lady. Generally not long absences, but I might not always be able to guarantee that. Would that be a problem?"

"Of course not." She smiled. "I'm in fealty to His Majesty as well for my son's lands. He's my overlord as the Duke of Haldane as well as, obviously, the King of Gwynedd. I quite understand that your oath to him comes first." She paused, studying me. "How does seven and a half sovereigns per quarter sound? The office would also come with two changes of clothing in household colors, and obviously room and board for you and Amanda."

I stared at her, slightly dazed. It sounded like a bloody fortune! Well, perhaps not technically so, though it was quite a generous wage nonetheless. She'd just offered me eight sovereigns more per annum than Seisyll ever had. I could support a daughter quite well on those wages, with enough left over to provide a decent dowry for her in a few years. I could even, were I so inclined, hope to afford a wife. Not that I _was_ so inclined; like the Dowager Baroness of Kinlochan, I greatly valued my freedom.

"It...sounds very much like me accepting, my lady! Might I have a fortnight to get my other affairs in order first?"

"Of course."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

_May 18, 1134_

_Kinlochan House, Rhemuth_

The Dowager Baroness Avisa opened the door to my new private chamber. "It's a little small," she told me apologetically. "I hadn't realized I'd be housing both a man and his child when I asked Piers to set it up, but there's a bit of room for us to set up a pallet for Amanda at the foot of your bed. It's a good thing she's so small yet. I'll see that more suitable rooms are readied for you when we visit Kinlochan at the beginning of June."

"This is fine," I assured her.

"I've thought of moving house within Rhemuth, actually. This one was suitable enough when my late husband and I only needed to use it a few weeks out of every year, but growing children and a growing household need more room, I'm thinking, and I'd like to remain in residence here in Rhemuth for longer periods than I have done in the past. That can be one of your first tasks, once you've settled into your duties—scouting for other houses which might prove more suitable to my current needs."

"I'll make the necessary inquiries first thing, my lady."

"Good. I've asked Piers to meet with you after supper tonight to advise you on your new duties and to bring you up to speed." She opened a small chest next to the bed, indicating the folded garments within. "House colors for you, though I only require the household to wear them on special occasions, or if representing Kinlochan House in the public venue. I had to guess at your size, so I guessed on the larger side. It's easier to alter down than up, after all. If you'd be so kind as to try them on tonight, I'll have the tailor customize the fit."

I pulled out a tunic, holding it up to my chest. The deep sapphire blue of the garment was not all that different from Arilan violet. Silvery-gray fabric added an accent color around the collar and cuffs, which were also edged with gold embroidered trim. Not ostentatiously so, of course; it was livery befitting a baron's household, not a duke's. The outfit was discreetly adorned by the addition of the Kinlochan household badge.

"There's a winter variant as well, suitable for Christmas Courts or Twelfth Nights. Dark blue velvet robes lined with miniver. I'll order one made for you come colder weather." Baroness Avisa reached out to stroke her fingers lightly over one of the silver-gray cuffs. "The household colors are azure and argent. I ordered livery with white cuffs on the over-sleeves one year, and Piers has yet to forgive me. They were the very devil to keep clean, I'm told." She grinned up at me. "Hopefully this pale gray will be a bit easier to maintain."

"I'll try to keep the laundress from coming after my blood," I assured her. She laughed, leaning against the wall behind her.

"There's a garderobe down the corridor and around the corner to the right. Household meals are served at noon and at six. If you prefer to break your fasts in the morning before the noon meal, just let Cook know and he'll have something sent up. If your work keeps you away during the regular meal times, he'll hold some extra back for your return if you'll inform him beforehand."

I nodded. "I can take my meals while I'm out should that be necessary." With two extra sovereigns per quarter, I could afford to eat a fair number of meals out!

"You'll be given a half-day per week free, not counting holy days or whatever time away from the estate that the King may require of you, of course. Your half-day will be on Wednesdays. Sundays, of course, are also days of rest, or at least whatever rest one can find while still supervising a busy household." She gave a wry smile. "If you have need of longer absences, such as to visit family for special occasions, those can be arranged; I simply ask that you inform me in advance. I believe you'll find me an easy taskmistress."

"That all sounds sufficient. Thank you, my lady."

She straightened, turning to leave, but paused in the doorway. Turning back towards me with an apologetic look and a slight rosiness rising in her cheeks, she added. "There's one more thing. What you do in town on your personal time is your own business, of course, but I would ask that you...um...refrain from bringing any unrelated guests back here to your chamber."

"I see." My lips twitched. "But my sixteen young sisters who all happen to work as bathhouse attendants would be perfectly suitable?"

She laughed, her blush growing. "Don't make this awkward, Sir Sextus. You know what I mean."

I grinned. "I do. And you needn't worry on that score, my lady. I assure you, a seven-year-old daughter makes for a most effective chaperone. My moderately tarnished virtue, alas, is far safer than it's been in years."

#

_May 22, 1134_

_Kinlochan House, Rhemuth_

I soon settled into my duties at Kinlochan House. Piers spent the first few evenings alternately going over the household routine, the accounts (still quite firmly under his own management, I was told in no uncertain terms), and querying me on what I would do in any number of speculative situations, trying to assess if I had a sound head for this line of work or if his mistress had simply allowed herself to be swayed by some ne'er-do-well with a good line and a charming grin. From his dubious glances at me, I imagined he suspected the latter.

"Have you held this sort of office before, young man?"

"Not exactly, no, although I've been left in charge of my brother's manor on many occasions when he was called to do the King's business here in Rhemuth or abroad. I'm familiar with what a steward's duties are, though. I worked quite closely with ours at Tre-Arilan."

"Hmph. Well, that was with only one manor to manage, I imagine. The young master has charge over several."

I imagined he did. Most barons would. I also knew that what Piers actually meant was that the young master's estate stewards had charge over his properties; it was doubtful that Aldwyn, at age five, had taken a keen interest in his baronial inheritance as of yet.

"Fortunately Master Gerard at Kinlochan has no intention of retiring just quite yet, so there will be a man of considerable experience managing the young master's interests at the baronial seat for some time."

In other words, I need not think I had any hope of getting my wet-behind-the-ears self into that position anytime soon. I could read between the lines as well as the next man.

"Master Lars has the running of the domestic side of the estate, and has had for years. He runs a nice, tight household." Approval at his colleague's accomplishment managed to leak out between lips pressed tightly together in stern judgment as he gazed at me. "He would not be an easy man to replace."

"Doubtless he would not, Master Piers." I smiled back, my eyes daring him to find some fault in my agreement with his statement. "I'm given to understand that Baroness Avisa is in hopes of allowing you a chance to return to Kinlochan so you can spend more time with family there. Is it your hope to move into that office once Master Lars steps down? It would seem like an advantageous move for you, unless you'd prefer to retire soon as well."

He studied me, apparently somewhat mollified since I hadn't shown any untoward eagerness to snatch such a prize position out from under his nose. "Mayhap," he allowed grudgingly. "I've not decided yet. So, you're thinking you've got what it takes to manage the baronial holdings here in Rhemuth, do you?"

I shrugged modestly. "I'm hoping to learn what it takes, Master Piers, and I'm told you're just the fellow to teach me. I'm keen to learn from the best." Hopefully that last wasn't laying it on too thick.

"Hmph." Piers studied me warily. "All right then. Let's see what sort of head you've got perched on those shoulders. The Baroness is in need of a horse. Her reeve is torn between two possibilities he's looked over. One of the beasts would cost the baronial purse only five sovereigns, the other would cost ten. Which would you advise him to purchase for her?"

I shook my head, recognizing it as a trick question. "That's hardly enough information to make such a choice, Master Piers. For one thing, you've not even said what sort of horse it is she's in need of. A plough horse? A palfrey?"

He nodded. "Let's say it's a palfrey she's inquiring after."

"All right. In either case, I'd prefer to see both horses myself."

"Not possible. Your responsibilities have kept you too busy to leave the estate, and the reeve must bring back a decision and the coin that afternoon."

I suspected he'd say that. "Then I'd want to know the reeve's impression of both palfreys, and if there's some apparent reason why one is double the price of the other."

"Both are sound enough mares, as far as the reeve can judge. The pricier one has a more pleasing conformation, higher stamina and better bloodlines, of course, but then again, at double the price, it's a higher drain on the baronial coffers. The less expensive one would suffice for the Baroness's needs."

"It might suffice, but would that make it the best choice?" I asked. "The higher priced palfrey might still be the more economical buy for the money, in the long run. Would the lady be wishing to breed the beast someday? If so, would the better of the two palfreys not be the better investment? And even if not, how much use is she planning to get out of the animal? Would she be looking for one that would suit just for the occasional ride out, or is she a keen horsewoman who would be seeking to ride out daily? Which palfrey has the better temperament? Does the lady plan to ride in the hunt? There are far more other factors to be considered than mere cost, though if the coffers could bear the expense, I'd be more likely to lean towards the purchase of a higher quality animal as the better investment in the long run. Ten sovereigns for a palfrey is not unreasonable; I've seen some sell for as much as fifteen, especially if they've any R'Kassi bloodlines." I grinned. "Of course, if the reeve comes to me asking for coin to buy a palfrey for twenty sovereigns, I'll have to ask if it's gold-plated or simply sired by the King of R'Kassi himself rather than just by one of his stallions. But I'd balk at buying a palfrey the breeder is only asking five sovereigns for; there'd surely be _something_ off about her, to be let go so cheaply."

The old steward pursed his lips. I couldn't tell if he was pleased by my answer or not.

#

_May 30_

_Kinlochan House, Rhemuth_

"I'm told you'll do," Baroness Avisa told me after several more evenings had passed. Her eyes laughed at me as she watched me from the doorway of Kinlochan House's study.

"Beg pardon, my lady?" I asked, not certain I'd heard her correctly, for I'd been studying the household books and she'd caught me off guard.

"It's high praise, coming from Piers. I'd not take it lightly. Not that I doubted your capabilities, but I'd expected it would take you at least another month or two to worm your way into Piers's good graces. You're a fast worker."

"Just a quick learner, my lady."

"Avisa." She shrugged as I raised a questioning eyebrow at her. "We're not out in public, Sir Sextus, and I hardly outrank you to the point you need stand on ceremony in the privacy of our own study." She moved closer to settle onto a bench next to the counting table where I sat. "I think you're ready to spend a few weeks at Kinlochan and make the acquaintance of Masters Gerard and Lars. My boys are looking forward to visiting home; they want to show Amanda their cave." She grinned. "It's a tiny rock grotto in the castle gardens, no deeper than six or seven feet. You needn't worry about her becoming lost in it for days. But my lads quite enjoy it, even if the castle laundresses don't."

I laughed. "I'll hardly make a young lady of her at this rate, Lady Avisa."

"Oh, mercy! There'll be time enough for that later." She wrinkled her nose. "I was constantly scuttling over rock ledges or climbing trees. Let the lass enjoy it while she still can."

It was an unexpected insight into the lady before me. I could hardly imagine the graceful Dowager Baroness of Kinlochan as a dirt-stained little wench with scabby knees, sitting with skinny legs dangling from some tree branch.

"Did your father have to haul you out of some mighty oak just to drag you to Rhemuth Court once you got to marriageable age?" I teased.

She laughed. "Just about." She sobered at the memory. "I was terrified."

I set my pen aside. "Of the King's Court, or of the thought of marriage?"

"Yes." A fleeting smile. "Court. Marriage. Kelson." She grinned. "God love him, it wasn't _his_ fault. The King was quite gracious, especially given the circumstances. How many women do you think got paraded in front of the poor man before he finally wed Queen Araxie?"

I grinned. "Oh, probably a few hundred more than he was comfortable with, at the very least. So, your parents entertained hopes of having a King for a son-in-law?"

"Not very high ones. They knew the chances were nil. But I _was_ female and breedable, so they had to trot me out there into the ring, just on the off chance _someone _with a decent bloodline might notice me..." She rolled her eyes expressively, her voice slightly bitter. "You're quite fortunate to have been born a man, Sir Sextus."

"I know." I studied my fingertips, noting idly that I had acquired an ink stain on my index finger, where I'd grasped the pen a bit too close to the nib. "I've always taken that for granted, I suppose, but now that I have a daughter to care for..." I shrugged. "I've not really stopped to think all that much about what life is like for a woman until fairly recently." I thought of my sisters, and how very differently the winds of Fortune had blown for both. "How old _were_ you when you finally wed, if I may ask?"

"Seventeen. I finally got passed off to the highest bidder." She sighed, a weary look crossing her features. "No, that's not fair, don't listen to me, Sextus. Edgar was a decent man; my parents chose well for me. I'm just tired tonight, that's all."

"I remember him slightly from Court. A good man, from what little I knew of him at any rate, but I gather he didn't live up to your girlish fancies?" Her attempt at a smile hadn't erased the sadness from her eyes, and my heart ached for her.

She chuckled softly, a hint of humor returning to her eyes as she looked across at me. "What man ever does?" She smiled. "No offense meant, Sir Sextus, but a young maiden's fancies can be quite...unrealistic? Much like hoping to take an evening's stroll up a moonbeam." Lady Avisa studied her laced fingertips. "He was very patient with me, and he loved our sons dearly. It was a better marriage than many women have, I suppose. I grew to like him, and he certainly seemed quite fond of me as well." She blushed slightly, averting her eyes as she rose from the bench. "Well. I'd best have a word with Moira about how to pack for our journey. Good night, Sir Sextus."

"Good night, Lady Avisa."

The door closed behind her. I sat staring at it, lost in my thoughts for a good while afterward.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

_June 1, 1134_

_Chateau de Moreau, Barony of Kinlochan_

We made our approach to the baronial castle slowly, the better to observe the progress of the Kinlochan laborers as they carried out their summer tasks. In the near field, men were mowing down the hay grasses and spreading them out to dry in the hot sun, the hayward keeping close watch over the tenants to ensure no man was shirking in his labors. They paused as the baronial retinue passed, doffing caps and bowing their welcome to the young lad who had begged to be let out of the coach with the Kinlochan arms painted on the side at our last stop, and who now rode into Kinlochan on my horse, sitting in front of me. The heir to Kinlochan waved back, grinning ear to ear, bringing smiles to the faces of those who, for a brief instant, forgot the arduousness of their labors.

The retinue drew closer still to Chateau de Moreau, and the tableau changed. In the distance, we could see sheep being gathered for shearing, but at the castle itself most of the domestic household had been assembled in the bailey to greet the returning Dowager Baroness, their future baron and his heir apparent.

The drawbridge was down, the portcullis raised, in readiness for our arrival. Piers and I rode through the gatehouse just ahead of the Baronial coach, the remainder of our small retinue traveling just behind it. Loud cheers erupted as the coach stopped and first Taggert, then their Dowager Baroness, were assisted out of it. Taggert broke free to run into the arms of a stout woman who gathered him into her embrace.

Amanda peered curiously from the coach, staring around at the small crowd. She, too, was lifted down. Piers handed his horse off to one of the approaching stablemen and approached me to help Aldwyn down. The Kinlochan heir soon joined his brother.

I dismounted, giving my daughter a reassuring smile, and she scurried to my side.

"Welcome to Kinlochan," a man said, and I found myself making the acquaintance of Master Lars, steward over the barony's domestic affairs.

#

Although I was told that the young baron and his brother normally only put in a token appearance for the evening meals in the Great Hall before being ushered upstairs to the nursery to dine privately and be readied for bed, on the evening of our arrival the household celebrated the return of Kinlochan's heir to his baronial seat with a feast, so both boys were in attendance in places of honor at the High Table. The Lady Avisa sat at young Aldwyn's right hand, with little Lord Taggert sitting to his left, their nurse standing directly behind both to assist them with the cutting of meat and in holding their shared goblet so as to avoid spills. To my surprise, my daughter and I found ourselves seated to the left of Taggert, for Lady Avisa had decided this honor would ensure our faces and identities would quickly become known to all her household. Amanda, up until now, had never so much as attended a formal feast; I hoped her manners had been amended to the point of allowing her a seat at High Table without too much risk of her embarrassing us both. Masters Piers, Lars, and Gerard took up the seats to the Lady Avisa's right.

As the feast began, I studied the faces seated before us in the Great Hall, doing my best to recall which ones belonged to which names. The household had been introduced to me shortly after our arrival, but while I'd spent the rest of the afternoon answering hails and receiving welcomes—some guarded, others warmer—the rest of the household had had the advantage of having only one newcomer's name to learn (or two, for those who had deigned to notice I'd brought a daughter). I, on the other hand, had closer to sixty names to learn. Fortunately, no one really expected me to do so on my first day.

I glanced down at Amanda. As instructed, she was carefully watching everything I did, copying my table manners so she wouldn't make a misstep. The effect was inadvertently comical; I had not meant for the child to mirror my every move! I turned my attention back to my trencher, pretending to be fully focused on my meal as I dipped my sops in the rich sauce my squab had been stewed in. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Amanda follow suit, dipping her morsel of bread in the sauce then conveying it to her lips even as I did, her expression solemn, as if participating in some new form of Communion ritual. I suppressed a laugh. She caught my look and giggled.

"Six," she whispered. "I don't like jellied eel."

"Neither do I, Grub," I whispered back. "Taste a little to be polite, move it around a bit on your trencher so it looks like you've eaten more than you have, then eat the rest of your food. You like the squab though, don't you?

She nodded. "Aye, the squab's first rate!"

I smiled to myself. It had taken Amanda a little while to adjust to a richer fare than she'd grown up accustomed to, but now her tastes and her stomach had begun to acclimate to a wider diet. She wasn't shy about opining whether she thought a particular dish was 'first rate' or 'pig leavings'. Teaching her when and to whom it was inappropriate to express the latter opinion had taken a little more time and effort, but she was catching on.

What had taken even longer was finding some form of address for her to use for me that we could both feel comfortable with. Seisyll's children called him Papa, but from the very beginning Amanda had felt awkward using that name for me, and it sounded odd to my ears as well. We'd tried 'Father' for a while, but if anything, that sounded even more formal and strained, so after a while, Amanda had privately fallen into the habit of calling me 'Sixth,' as a joking reference to my name's meaning, and that had quickly become shortened to 'Six.' It drew the occasional questioning look, but neither of us minded. I, on the other hand, had taken to calling her 'Grub' for reasons inexplicable to both of us. Mayhap it had something to do with her tiny stature, combined with a penchant for attracting mud and dirt or for devouring nearly everything in sight, I wasn't sure, but I had called her by that name once, and she had responded as if it were perfectly ordinary to be referred to as if she were an insect larva, so the moniker had stuck.

#

After the feast was over, the nurse brought both boys upstairs to the nursery to settle in for the night. Grub and I followed Master Lars up another flight of stairs to where a suite of chambers had been set aside for our use in the North Tower. A door opened up to a small area that would serve well enough as a private solar and study, furnished as it was with a chair and several benches close to a cheery hearth; an exchequer table; a desk well stocked with ink, pens, and parchment; and several chests of various sizes. Another door just off this room led to a garderobe on one end of a small passage and a tiny chamber at the other end which held a wooden tub, a shelf with folded towels and bar soaps, a small window just wide enough to light the chamber during the day, and what appeared to be a drain spout for emptying used bathwater out into the moat far below. A small table also held a basin and pitcher of fresh water for washing face and hands, and a tray holding small birch twigs for cleaning teeth. An entire room set aside for the primary purpose of bathing and freshening up was a luxury I'd never enjoyed; normally I'd simply made do with a tub set up in my bedchamber or out of doors under a canopy during the warm months, and Grub had grown up making do with an ice cold rivulet of dubious cleanliness to wash the worst patches of dirt off in during the summer months, so she and I spent a few moments gawking at the novelty.

The bedchamber, it turned out, was situated above the common room we shared, accessed by a short flight of spiral stairs. It was a bit more spacious, furnished with a curtained bed and several storage chests, one of which had been brought with us from Kinlochan House in Rhemuth, as it contained my household clothing and a few personal effects. There was also a window embrasure with seating that flanked a cardounet table, and two chairs flanking another small table were alongside an elaborately carved cabinet which turned out to hold an assortment of wines and spirits. One end of the chamber was partitioned off with an arras, behind which I found a much smaller bed and a storage chest sufficient for Grub's meager belongings. My daughter squealed with delight at the discovery that the bed had a feather mattress. I left her to explore its cloud-like softness, returning with Master Lars to the common room below, thanking him for arranging these quarters for our stay and agreeing to meet with him the next afternoon to learn more about the domestic side of affairs at Chateau de Moreau. The baroness had requested that I spend some time with both of the chateau's stewards in order to learn the basic aspects of their duties, the better to ensure that if one of the Kinlochan stewards were to grow ill or become injured, another would be available to step into his shoes at a moment's notice.

Master Lars had no sooner left than there was another light knock on the door. I opened it again to find the baroness standing there.

"I hope you'll find your quarters here a bit more satisfactory than your room at Kinlochan House," she said.

I invited her in, assuring her that they far exceeded my requirements. She smiled, glancing around the sitting chamber. "Master Lars has made a few changes since I had these rooms," she remarked as she took in our surroundings.

"Since _you_ had them?" I repeated, startled.

Lady Avisa blushed slightly. "Yes, Edgar set this group of rooms aside for me as my private bower when we first came to Chateau de Moreau." She walked over to the desk, toying with one of the pens lying atop it. "I barely knew him yet, and I was still quite shy. He thought it might help ease things a bit if I had a small corner of the castle I could think of as my own personal retreat until I grew more accustomed to being a wife." She shrugged. "It _did_ help a little."

"That was considerate of him." I glanced around the tower chamber, seeing its little luxuries through new eyes. "I hope it wasn't any inconvenience for you to give up these rooms."

"Oh, no," she assured me. "I vacated them several years ago after Aldwyn was born. The nursery is closer to the baronial suite, you see, and of course I was quite used to Edgar by that time." Avisa put down the pen, glancing up as we both heard a squeal of glee. She laughed. "Let me guess, your daughter's discovered her feather mattress? Or perhaps the coffer under her bed?"

"The coffer?" I asked, bewildered.

The baroness glanced up the staircase. "May I?"

I waved her ahead, following close behind her as she ascended the stairs.

"Nurse Bridget found some of my old toys when she was preparing the nursery for our arrival last week. I'd written ahead, asking her to set a few items aside for Amanda's use. It's a Bartholomew baby and some baby clothes for it. Aldwyn and Taggert have never shown much interest in them, but mayhap she might." She grinned over her shoulder at me as we reached the top of the staircase. "Truth be told, I was more into marbles and hoops and carved horses myself, so my play babies never had much of a chance to wear out."

We peeked behind the partition wall separating Grub's portion of the bedchamber from the rest of the room. She sat on the bed, gazing delightedly at the contents of a small lidded box.

"What is it, Grub?" I asked her.

She pulled out the object of her fascination. It was a small poppet made of fabric scraps, with features stitched in fine needlework and flaxen braids framing its face. It wore a tiny chemise. Reaching back into the coffer, Grub pulled out three equally small gowns. She looked up at me, her eyes shining.

"It's like a person, but little," she said. "What is it?"

Avisa glanced at me in consternation. I realized with a start that Grub probably had never owned a Bartholomew baby. Had she been given toys of any sort before she came to live with me? Probably not, come to think.

"It's a poppet, sweeting. A Bartholomew Fair-baby."

"What do you do with it?"

I glanced at the baroness. She perched on one end of Grub's bed. "Well, you can dress her up like a real child, and you can play with her as if she were your little girl, or perhaps a friend. You just pretend she's a person and that she can hear you and talk back."

Grub looked awed. "What's her name?"

"I don't know, sweeting." Avisa smiled. "I suppose you'll have to ask her. Once you've played with her a bit, you'll know her name, and then maybe you can tell us."

My daughter frowned, puzzled. "It's like magic, then?"

"Magic?" Lady Avisa chuckled. "Well, not exactly—not like Deryni magic, at any rate—but I suppose it could be considered a sort of magic. Toys that you enjoy playing with a great deal often end up feeling quite real to you, so it's 'magic' in that sense."

I wondered how much, if anything, my new employer knew about my Deryni heritage. It wasn't as tightly guarded a secret as it once was, but neither was my family all that open about it either. There were advantages in our occasional line of work as fact-finders for King Kelson to not being widely known as a Deryni family. Had she heard rumors of the Arilans possessing arcane powers?

I still had not disclosed the truth of what we were to my own daughter, unsure how to broach the topic to a child who had been Nyford-bred and who might still harbor some of the prejudices that had long run strongly in that part of the Kingdom. She would need to know soon, for if her more obvious powers had not manifested already, they were more likely to once she drew closer to young womanhood. At least she had not seemed spooked by the thought that her new poppet might be 'magic,' but simply curious about Lady Avisa's statement. That seemed promising. Nor had there been anything hinting at disapproval or censure in the baroness's mention of Deryni magic. Her voice had remained quite matter-of-fact as to the existence of such powers, without any tinge of judgment coloring the statement. That, too, was reassuring. I intended to remain discreet about my powers, but should they somehow come to light, at least now I was less concerned that I would throw the lady of Kinlochan into a panic or, worse, lose my position in her household due to the disclosure.

"It's time to get ready for bed, Grub. Why don't you head downstairs and wash your face and hands and clean your teeth. Your poppet will still be here if she wants to sleep with you tonight. Looks like she's already dressed for sleep anyway."

She put the fair-baby down reluctantly, bobbing a curtsey to the baroness as she thanked her for the gift and padding down the stairs towards the pitcher and basin in the bathing chamber. As she left, I turned to the baroness.

"Thank you, Lady Avisa. In truth, I'm embarrassed to admit I hadn't thought of buying toys for the child when we were in Rhemuth, but I don't suppose she's ever had any to play with, growing up as she did."

"I thought you might not have. I'll see if we can find more that would suit her. And of course there are always the shared toys in the nursery, but I thought she might enjoy having something to play with that was just her own." The lady wandered over to the window embrasure, idly toying with one of the cardounet pieces on the small game table between the window seats. "Do you play, Sir Sextus?"

"Cardounet? On occasion." I wondered if she intended to ask me to join her in a game. Not that I minded, but there were others in the household who might take a dim view of their lady paying too long a visit to a man's private chambers, despite the presence of a young child to ensure his proper behavior.

As if reading my thoughts, the lady gave me a wistful smile, putting the game piece back in its proper square on the board. "It's late. I'm sorry, I suppose I should go and let you get ready to retire for the evening." She crossed the chamber towards the staircase. I went before her as every trained courtier is taught to do, prepared to break her fall should the lady trip while descending the stairs.

She had nearly reached the bottom of the spiral stairs when her foot slipped on one of the tread-worn steps, causing her to lose her balance. She flailed slightly, grabbing for the wall to steady herself, but I turned and caught her before she could fall. She landed against my chest, but I had expected the impact and had braced for it, tightening one arm around her as I steadied myself against the tower wall with my other hand.

"Are you all right, my lady?" I asked, catching a glimpse of her face as she pulled back slightly.

"I...yes...thank you..." She sounded a bit breathless. I waited until I was certain she had regained her balance then relaxed my hold on her. The pulse in her throat fluttered, birdlike, and I caught myself staring at it. I wrenched my gaze back up slightly to meet hers. It felt odd, angling my head upwards rather than down to look at her. She wavered on the second step above me, her cheeks flushed.

"Sir Sextus…?" Her voice was a mere whisper.

I offered her a hand to assist her in taking the remaining steps down. She took it somewhat absently, her gaze never leaving my face. As she reached level ground, her free hand reached up, startling me with the unexpected sensation of trembling fingers stroking my hair gently. "I never really had a choice before," she said softly. "Would you mind terribly…?"

I swallowed. "A choice, my lady?" I repeated, my mind gone numb. "About what?"

Soft lips, feather-light, brushed against mine. I hesitated only briefly, stunned, then found myself drawing her closer, enfolding her yielding softness in my arms as I bent to claim her lips again. A quiet sound behind me alerted me to the presence of someone else, but for the moment I was oblivious, too caught up in instinctive response to consider my surroundings.

"If ye're goin' t' be bangin' around down here, do I need t' wait in th' corridor?" a young voice asked, sounding disgusted.

The lady and I broke free of our embrace, too mortified to meet each other's eyes. "Um…no, sweeting," I assured my daughter, my face growing flaming hot. "It's nothing like that…we were just bidding each other a good night…run on up to bed, there's a good lass…."

"Are ye sure? Because there ain't no door upstairs, an' I don' wanna hear nuthin'…." I dimly noted that she'd reverted to her Nyford rustic dialect, despite having lost most vestiges of it in more recent weeks under the nursery tutor's careful coaching.

Lady Avisa's face bloomed scarlet. "No, darling, I was just leaving! Truly." She edged away from me, making a beeline for the door and fleeing through it. Belatedly I realized I should have opened it for her. Hopefully no one else had noticed her hasty flight from my quarters; there was no telling what rumors might fly through the castle if anyone had.

Grub looked bewildered. "That was fast!"

"Hm. Yes. Early day tomorrow, you know. We ought to be abed ourselves." I waved my hand towards the staircase, motioning for her to go up ahead of me.

"What's happening tomorrow?" she asked, confused.

"Morning, same as always. It's just another morning. You know how mornings are, one right after another…." I was well aware I was babbling, but couldn't seem to stop myself.

We reached the top of the stairs. Grub immediately clambered into her bed, holding her new fair-baby close before turning her attention back to me. "Are you going to make babies with Lady Avisa?"

"Jesú, no, sweeting, I can't!" Near panic bubbled up; I'd hoped not to have to deal with this line of questioning. "She's not my wife." I gently tucked the covers over her.

"Neither was my mam," Grub reminded me.

"Um, yes. Well. That was…different."

"How?"

I gaped at her, at a loss for a reply. How could I explain to her the differences in terms she could grasp? The blue-violet stare awaited my response, but I was afraid that no matter how I replied, my answer would be weighed and found wanting.

"I'm in Lady Avisa's service," I finally managed. "She's the Dowager Baroness of Kinlochan; I'm just a knight errant and a steward in training. It wouldn't be right."

"Oh." She settled back into her mattress, apparently satisfied by my answer. I started to breathe again, glad she hadn't asked me how siring a babe on a barmaid I'd never met before nor had intended to see again was somehow more right. I had no answer for that one. I kissed my daughter's cheek gently and withdrew, blowing out the tapers and settling onto my bed. In the darkness, I heard her call out, "Six?"

"Yes, sweeting?"

"Aren't you going to wash your face and hands and clean your teeth too?"

I sighed. "Yes, sweeting."

I pulled myself back out of bed, heading downstairs again to perform the nightly ablutions, returning shortly thereafter. Grub was sound asleep when I returned, but sleep eluded me for some time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

_June 4, 1134_

_Chateau de Moreau, the Barony of Kinlochan_

I threw myself into learning more about the stewardship of the baronial castle and lands during my first few days in Kinlochan. The work helped keep my mind off the lady whose young son was the titular lord of these lands now. I could ill afford the distraction, yet late at night, once the day's duties were over and I had time for other thoughts, my mind kept returning to that brief interlude between us at the base of the staircase. I did my best to banish the memory from my mind, for the lady of Kinlochan was too far above my station for me to consider any thoughts of dalliance, nor could I imagine she'd desire even an honorable courtship from a man so dependent on her coffers for his financial support. Not that I was looking for a wife. Jesú knew any woman desperate enough to want to wed me would doubtless be too desperate for me to want!

Of the Lady Avisa, I saw little sign for a couple of days after that last encounter. She was busy settling back into her duties as the Dowager Baroness of Kinlochan and her son's regent, while I was following Masters Lars and Gerard about their duties, learning from them and attempting to make myself useful. On the third day following our arrival, I found a folded note underneath my chamber door when I retired for the evening. _Please accept my most profound apologies. —A _

I didn't know why she'd felt she owed me an apology. For the kiss? I might have been caught by surprise, but I certainly hadn't minded. If anything, I felt I owed her an apology for the abrupt and embarrassing end to what had been an otherwise lovely visit. Perhaps she feared she had taken improper advantage of me? I had to smile at the thought; it had been years since anyone had bothered to fret over sullying my virtue. If anything, I'd figured it was universally agreed I had none left to lose. And it was just, after all, a simple parting kiss, was it not?

Mayhap she was apologizing because she felt the same niggling, inexplicable feeling of guilt that I had felt for the past three days since she fled into the night. I refolded the note thoughtfully, wondering about that odd twinge of conscience. Why _was_ I so bothered by what had happened? Maybe it had something to do with the way she had looked just before I kissed her…or was it just afterwards? Where had I seen that expression before?

As if in answer, my memory called up a brief vision of my daughter's face, her eyes filled with a similar vulnerable yearning as Sophie gave her a new name. Why that particular memory had come to me just then, I had no clue.

I folded the note once more and slipped it into my doublet next to my chest for safekeeping.

#

_June 10_

_Chateau de Moreau, the castle gardens_

I had finished the day's tasks earlier than expected, and found myself unexpectedly free for the rest of the afternoon. It was a glorious day, sunny but not sweltering hot, and I decided to stop by the nursery to see if Grub wanted to take a walk with me. Perhaps if the stables had a suitable horse available for her to borrow, I could even give her a riding lesson. She had been envious during the trip to Kinlochan when Aldwyn had been permitted to leave the coach to ride the rest of the way into his baronial seat with me, and I'd promised her I'd teach her how to ride as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Since then, Lady Avisa had arranged for her to take a few riding lessons with Aldwyn, but what with one thing after another, I'd not had much of a chance to see Grub's progress for myself.

Nurse Bridget greeted me at the nursery door. "If you're here for Amanda, Sir Sextus, she's not within. M'Lady has taken her and the lads out to play in the gardens. You'll find them down near that beastly cavern, I believe, doubtless making quite a mess of their clothes." She gave me a long-suffering smile and a shrug.

I thanked her for the information, heading back down towards the castle gardens. I didn't see them right at first, although the sound of children's voices at play alerted me to their whereabouts. I followed the pathways through the flower beds until I drew close to a small arbor. Lady Avisa sat facing slightly away from me, though her face was partly visible in profile. A few feet in front of her, the children sat cross-legged on the ground on a grassy area just outside the artificial cave. The lady appeared to have been mending one of her boys' shirts, though she sat with it in her lap unattended, needle still poised above the fabric, her focus fixed on the children's play, studying them intently as if fascinated.

Something about that intent expression drew my gaze back towards what the children were doing.

Grub sat very still, her hand held before her at chest height, one finger extended. As I watched, a butterfly settled upon it. She lifted her other hand as if to try to catch it, but just at that moment Lady Avisa leaned forward.

"No, sweeting, don't touch its wings. They're very fragile and you'll hurt the poor creature. Just let him sit."

My daughter glanced up at the baroness. "Yes, m'lady," she answered respectfully. As her attention was diverted, the insect began to fly away, but then Grub noticed its departure and extended her hand further out, focusing her attention on the butterfly again. It circled a few times and then landed once more upon her finger. Grub smiled.

"Now _you_ try, Aldwyn. It's not hard once you learn how. You just have to think really hard towards it what it Is you want it to do."

Aldwyn scrunched up his five year old features in concentration as he stuck out one grubby little hand. His mother stifled a laugh, her free hand slowly going up to cover her mouth as she watched. After several long moments the butterfly left Grub's finger, circling around the children's heads uncertainly before descending again to alight on Aldwyn's finger.

"Well done!" Grub crowed. "Taggert, do you want to try it?"

Little Taggert's eyes shone with excitement. He, too, focused all of his attention on the butterfly until his eyes crossed with the effort, but this time there seemed to be no effect. He lowered his hand, looking crestfallen.

"Oh, it's all right, Taggert; I couldn't do it either until I was Aldwyn's age. Hold up your finger again." The toddler did, and Grub put hers next to it, calling the butterfly to herself then coaxing it to step across the small gap to Taggert's finger. It obeyed promptly.

I glanced uncertainly at Lady Avisa, but she showed no shock or even surprise at any of this, just frank curiosity and—was I reading her aright?—even maternal approval. "Nicely done, children!" she exclaimed. "Now let the butterfly go free; you wouldn't want to tire it." She set her sewing to one side, rising to cross the grassy verge and settling onto the ground alongside them, studying my daughter intently.

"Amanda, darling, can you do this yet?" she asked, cupping her hand before her and summoning up a pale coppery glow of handfire.

My daughter's eyes widened. I held my breath. Here was the moment I'd feared. Here was where the Nyford urchin would start screaming in terror, calling the entire household down upon us.

Instead, Grub simply cupped her own hand, focusing intently for a few moments. Slowly, a blue-violet brilliance began to form above it, mirroring the color of her eyes. _Our_ eyes.

She looked up at Lady Avisa, then beyond her, noticing me for the first time. Her grin lit up her entire face.

"This is _awesome!_" my daughter crowed.

#

It was much later that evening before Lady Avisa and I had a moment to speak privately about what had occurred in the garden earlier that afternoon. Before returning to the castle, we'd cautioned the children to keep quiet about their newly discovered abilities. Not wishing to frighten them, the baroness had not gone into a great deal of detail as to why such gifts should remain secret for the time being. She'd simply explained it in a context that the lads, at least, already understood—just as there was a difference between "family manners" and "High Table manners," there was also a difference between "private family-time playing" and "playing in public." Some people found such abilities as butterfly-calling and handfire scary because they would never be able to do it themselves even if they tried for years, so these were things to be done only around people who were certain not to find them scary. The explanation seemed to suffice for Aldwyn and Taggert, though as she gathered them into her arms, I suspected she'd also reinforced her lesson with a training control set into their minds so they couldn't disobey her instructions even if they tried. That was something I'd done with Amanda as well, once we'd had a private moment. Being older than the little baron and his heir, she'd been bursting with questions about her new powers and where they had come from, so I'd brought her back to our quarters so we could talk without being overheard. It was evident to me now that her talents would be coming into full force before too much longer, so I was thankful her discovery that she was Deryni was more of a delight than a shock to her. As I'd suspected, she had heard a thing or two over the years about Deryni that had made her wonder if they were evil creatures to be feared, but somehow she'd never managed to connect her ability to do odd things like Truth-Read and summon butterflies with the "evils" of Deryni magic. Once I explained why some people were frightened of Deryni powers, that seemed to put her mind at ease, and she also understood more readily why, even though it was not a bad thing to be a Deryni, we needed to keep our gifts private and share them only with people we could trust with the knowledge of what we are.

Now the children were asleep in their beds. The baroness and I had returned to the garden arbor, seeking out a place where we could speak privately, hopefully without causing too much undue speculation about what we were up to, closeted together so late in the evening.

Lady Avisa pulled a light cloak closer around her, warding off the slight chill that still lingered in the night air despite the summertime temperatures of the daylight hours. She smiled up at me, patting the empty side of the bench in silent invitation. I settled down next to her.

"Was Amanda's mother Deryni?" she asked me without preamble.

I shrugged. "I rather doubt it. I suppose it's not entirely impossible, but I saw no sign if she was. Then again, I doubt if I even checked."

"Ah. Then Amanda must get her gifts from you. I'd hoped that was the case, especially since you didn't seem too shocked by what she was able to do this afternoon." She smiled faintly in the darkness. "Did you know your daughter was Deryni before today?"

I nodded. "I knew she could Truth-Read, and she's got rudimentary shields." I thought back to the afternoon's work with her, setting training controls in her mind. "Well, a bit more than rudimentary now, actually. They've strengthened in the short time I've had her."

"Hm. I wonder how that works? Would exposure to other Deryni strengthen her powers? I've never really known how it all works." The baroness tilted her head at me. "I take it you probably know a great deal more about this sort of thing than I do, Sir Sextus."

I studied her curiously. "I'm formally trained, if that's what you're meaning."

"Ah." Her eyes lit. "There _is_ such a thing, then? How would one acquire such training? Do you have to be Deryni on both sides of your family to qualify?" She bit her lip, her expression growing slightly worried. "I'm Deryni, but Edgar wasn't, so I don't know if that will make some sort of difference as far as Aldwyn's abilities are concerned, or Taggert's either if he ends up developing them, but it seems to me it would be a shame to pass down those sorts of gifts to them and then not give them a chance to learn how to use them properly."

I shrugged, wishing I knew more about how our Deryni traits were passed down myself. "I'm not certain it makes all that much difference. Certainly being only half-Deryni doesn't seem to have hindered Duke Alaric very much, if at all."

She looked slightly reassured. "Well, that's true."

"By the time your sons are ready for formal training, Saint Camber's Schola in Rhemuth should be quite well established," I told her. "It's already gotten off to a very promising start, by all accounts. I've been considering sending Amanda there myself in due time. I think that would be easier on her than sending her off to Andelon or some other kingdom for training just as she's begun to settle in and get used to the idea of being part of a family." In truth, that was only one of my reasons for considering the Schola for her training. The other reason was that I'd grown rather used to having the little grub around, and felt a sudden reluctance to send her off again, even for something so necessary as a formal education. I glanced at the baroness. "I take it you've never been trained, then. Were your parents trying to hide the family secret, or did they just not realize what they are?"

"Oh, they're both human," Lady Avisa stated matter-of-factly. "They have no idea I'm Deryni. I'm not sure how well they'd take the news, truth be told."

It took a moment for the significance to sink in. "But…they can't _both_ be human, Lady Avisa! Surely at least one of them must be Deryni for you to have inherited the trait?"

She blushed, fingering the edge of her cloak. "Can you keep a secret, Sir Sextus?" She glanced at me, then choked back a short laugh. "What a stupid question! You're Deryni; of course you can." She sighed, looking away again. "How shall I put this? Neither of my _known_ parents is Deryni. I…um…I've long suspected I might not fully belong in the family nest." The blush deepened.

The light dawned. "Oh. Well, yes, I suppose if…well…if your true parentage is actually something other than what it seems…."

"I'm a bastard get, Sir Sextus. Go on, it shouldn't be _that_ hard to get the words out. You've got one too." She grinned at me briefly. "Except, of course, you've not got a wife to hide yours behind."

I felt my face crimsoning. "No, I suppose not." I glanced away again, my mind awhirl with silent questions. Had Lord Taggert her father simply brought home a by-blow one day, expecting his wife to raise her without complaint? Or had his wife grown heavy with some other man's child, and if that were the case, had he ever realized his daughter wasn't truly his? There didn't seem to be any diplomatic way to ask, and even if there were, would either have told Avisa the truth about her parentage, or had she simply guessed?

"What was it like for you," she asked me, "growing up in a Deryni family? I imagine you've always known what you were." Her voice sounded wistful.

I wasn't sure how to answer her first question. Growing up among Deryni was something I'd always taken for granted. It was simply part of who I was. I was an Arilan, and therefore like most Arilans, I'd inherited black hair, blue-violet eyes, and a very special secret. Occasionally an Arilan would crop up who didn't quite fit the mold—little Jack, for instance, had inherited his mother Sophie's hazel eyes—but for the most part, those traits had run true at least in my own generation. Her second question was easier to address.

"I don't remember noticing we were any different from anyone else as a very young child," I told her. "But certainly by the time I reached later childhood, I knew what we were and the importance of keeping quiet about it." I thought back to those days. "Well, the secrecy was much more important in those days. But even now, I prefer keeping that knowledge fairly close." I gave her a wry smile. "Unlike dark hair or any shade of eye color, Deryni powers can all too easily be held against a person."

"Yes, I know." Avisa sighed. "I had a nursemaid once who caught me lighting a candle from my fingertips. She turned in her notice to my parents on the spot—called me a spawn of Satan and said she'd not remain under their roof a moment longer." Her lips formed a reluctant grin. "Fortunately, she didn't go into details, so my parents merely assumed she meant I was too rambunctious. I was a bit of a hoyden at that age. I told them I'd put frogs in her bed, they locked me in a cellar with naught but bread and water for a week, and that made an end of it."

I stared at her in shock. "They locked you in a cellar?"

She shrugged. "Just that one time. They'd found another nursemaid the next week, so they didn't have to deal with me again much after that. I still loathe dark, dank, enclosed places, though."

"I…can imagine." Actually, no, I couldn't. No matter how badly I'd behaved as a child, I couldn't imagine anyone in my family locking me away in a cellar for a week to correct the problem. Not even Denis. My uncle had been strict, even stern, but not nearly that harsh. I might have earned a thrashing or, even worse, a sanctimonious tirade, but I'd never been locked away in some musty undercroft chamber on prisoner's rations, not even that time when I had stolen his clothes and hung them from the beams in the Great Hall while he was bathing. "Jesú! How would they have reacted if they'd known the true reason your nursemaid left? Do your parents fear Deryni also?"

The baroness studied her hands, looking contemplative. "I truly don't know. They've never really said anything to me one way or another about Deryni, come to think." She gave a mirthless chuckle. "Then again, they hardly said anything to me about anything at all, really. Just 'Come here…let's have a look at you…yes, you're not really much to look at yet, but you've decent enough hips and should breed well enough when the time comes.'" She tilted her head at me with an ironic smile. "Well, I've caught with child thrice and haven't managed to die in childbed yet, so I suppose they were right enough on that count."

Her matter-of-fact tone was disconcerting, to say the least. "Trying for heirs is one thing, but I should hope there's far more to life than just breeding children!"

Again the rueful chuckle. "I'm a noblewoman, Sir Sextus. That's what's expected. A girl is born to a landed family, she grows, eventually her body ripens, she gets bartered off to the highest bidder, and if she's lucky enough, she produces an heir and a spare or two quickly enough to make everyone happy. And if she's even luckier, she doesn't produce too many daughters to eat away at the family fortunes with their dowries." Her lips twisted up at the corners. "Look at it this way; at least I managed to get _that_ part right. My parents haven't had much to complain about in years. Occasionally they even manage a smile on alternate Tuesdays, if the skies aren't overcast and we're not in the middle of Lent."

I laughed. I couldn't help myself. At the same time, though, I recognized what she'd done. She'd developed her warped sense of humor as a survival skill, a means of deflecting pain and coping with the crappy dice roll Fortune had thrown her in this game of life. I'd done something similar, just not under such adverse circumstances. For the first time in quite awhile, I felt quite fortunate to have been born an Arilan, even if just the wastrel runt of the litter.

Her face brightened briefly at my burst of laughter, but quickly sobered again. "I've heard that Deryni have a means of sharing memories with each other. Would you…would it be too much to ask…do you think maybe you could show me a little bit of what it was like for you, growing up among other Deryni?" She glanced at me, her gaze unusually shy for a woman given to catching me off guard with her occasional bold statements.

I tried to think of what to show her. My family was just…family. I'd never really given much thought to what, if anything, made us different from other folk. Well, granted, I supposed most other folk didn't happen to have a ritual chamber conveniently stashed away in their manor house, much less a Transfer Portal. But aside from that, we were just folk.

An idea came to mind. I focused on it, reaching for the baroness's hand to make the mental link easier to establish, since I'd never linked with her before.

_Me as a boy, around nine or ten. My Uncle Denis had come to Tre-Arilan for some special family occasion—had it been Seisyll's fourteenth birthday? Perhaps it had been; it was some significant landmark of that sort, at any rate. He'd been seated in a place of honor at our manorial High Table, to Seisyll's right. My mother, as usual, sat to my eldest brother's left. My sisters had been seated at my uncle's right hand, which left me as the remaining Arilan at the table. I'd been seated to our mother's left, where she could keep a close eye on me._

_Under those circumstances, how could I resist getting into a bit of mischief? _

_Denis was deep in conversation with my brother, giving him some philosophical spiel about the journey into young manhood or some such drivel. As he spoke, he reached for his wine goblet. I'd recently learned I could move small objects with my mind, if the objects were close enough and not very heavy, so as Denis reached absently for his goblet, I gave it a slight mental nudge._

_It moved, not very far, but the tiny shift ensured that Denis's hand encountered nothing but empty air. He glanced at the goblet with a slight frown, picked it up and took a quick swallow, setting it carefully back onto the table closer to his trencher. Again, his attention returned to my brother._

_I picked at my food and waited patiently. After a few moments, Denis reached for his knife. Again, I nudged it just barely out of reach._

_Seisyll's lips twitched. _Sextus, you git, stop that! _he scolded mind to mind. The amused glint in his eyes belied his censuring tone, though, and I suspected he'd privately share a laugh with me later over the prank._

_I smiled back at him, assuming my best expression of baby-faced innocence. _Can't help myself, brother. Sometimes being an Arilan means being a bit of a git. Ask Uncle Denis.

_Seisyll hastily smothered a laugh in his napkin, converting it to a cough instead. Uncle Denis frowned suspiciously at him. "Seisyll, did you move my knife just now?" he asked._

_Seisyll feigned confusion. "No, Uncle Denis!" _

_It was the unvarnished truth, as Denis doubtless knew if he was Truth-Reading. My mother shot a wary look at me. I glanced back at her and shrugged, an innocent bystander, as I finished devouring the capon on my trencher._

Lady Avisa roared with laughter. "Oh, mercy, you must have driven them mad at times!"

I grinned back. "You have no idea, my lady."

Someone approached us in the shadowy arbor. "Is that you, Lady Avisa?"

The lady of Kinlochan turned towards the voice, her lips still curved in a slight smile. "Yes, it is, Master Gerard." She rose. I belatedly realized that I still held her hand in mine and released it hastily, standing also.

Master Gerard spared a moment to frown at me before bowing before the dowager baroness. "My Lady, I'm afraid Lord Taggert has had a bad dream. Nurse Moira says he is calling for you, and she's been unable to console him."

"I'll be right there," she assured her estate steward. She turned towards me. "I'm sorry, Sir Sextus. Perhaps we can continue this conversation some other time." She hurried down the garden path back towards the castle. I started to follow, but Master Gerard stopped me.

"A moment of your time, Sir Sextus."

I paused in my walk, waiting for him to draw closer. He did so, lowering his voice to ensure that anyone else who might happen to be enjoying the gardens at that late hour would not overhear what he had to say.

"I trust, my lord, that you are well aware of what a precarious position Lady Avisa is in, being a wealthy and beautiful young widow in a position to attract entirely the wrong sort of suitors, and that you intend to take all due precautions in ensuring no shadow of dishonor or opprobrium falls on her reputation?"

In other words, who the hell did I think I was, dallying in a dark arbor with a lady too high above my station to be tarnished by the likes of me, encouraging her affections and attempting to ensnare her with my seductive wiles? I caught his meaning well enough. It took considerable effort on my part not to simply deck the man, but I knew his question was well intentioned, for it hadn't taken long for me to realize that Kinlochan's high steward regarded the dowager baroness with a fond affection that was nearly fatherly. Certainly more fatherly than her own father had ever been, from what I'd heard about the man earlier that night.

"I'm not after her, if that's what you're getting at," I answered, reining in my temper, "and I do intend to safeguard her. Lady Avisa had requested my counsel on a private matter; I was merely sharing my thoughts on the subject. We were nearly done."

"I see." He gave me a measuring look. "I do believe it would be possible—not to mention far more prudent—to give your counsel in future without sitting quite so close to the lady or holding her hand." His lips twisted in a grimace of a smile, as if he'd caught me cheating at cards and had just shown the proof of it to the rest of the players at table.

"Perhaps so, though in this case that might have been less effective." Let him make of that what he would; I was done answering for my actions. If he had some further argument, let him take it before the lady herself. If he didn't already know she was Deryni, I wasn't going to reveal that to her household, and if he did, she could explain my reasons just as well as I could.

_#_

_June 5, 1134_

_Chateau de Moreau, Barony of Kinlochan_

The royal courier arrived just as we were breaking our fast. I barely looked up from my manchet and soft cheese, assuming he had arrived with a message for the lady of Kinlochan. To my surprise, he asked for me instead.

"A message for Sir Sextus Arilan from His Majesty Kelson, King of Gwynedd," the messenger announced quietly, addressing Lady Avisa, although his eyes drifted towards me as he finished his statement.

The baroness graciously inclined her head towards me, indicating that he had leave to present the missive to me directly. I took the folded parchment he handed me, turning it over to see the Royal Seal. "Have you been instructed to await a reply?" I asked the courier as I cracked the wax.

"A verbal confirmation will suffice, my lord," the man answered.

I turned to the mistress of Kinlochan. "Pray excuse me for a few minutes." She smiled her agreement. I left the table to retreat to a nearby withdrawing room, opening the message once I was alone, in case it contained sensitive information the King would not want other eyes privy to. I perused the contents swiftly. The mission seemed straightforward enough, and unless some truly unexpected twist occurred, not even all that hazardous. Hopefully I'd be able to get the matter sorted out in just a few days, maybe a week or two at the most. The information didn't appear to be of utmost secrecy, but it was potentially compromising for a certain party or two, so after checking the seal to ensure there were no other hidden messages set into it by magical means, I burned the missive, waiting until the last of it had turned to ash or molten wax before rejoining the baronial household.

The courier waited attentively. I nodded to him. "Tell His Majesty I'll attend to the matter straight away."

The man in Haldane livery bowed his acknowledgment to me, turned and gave a deeper bow to the baroness, and left.

#

"How soon do you need to leave?" Lady Avisa asked me later, once we were alone.

"As soon as I can get free," I told her. "It's not an emergency matter, exactly, but it's the sort of thing that will be harder for me to track down and sort out if I delay too much." I folded a couple of changes of clothes as I spoke.

"Will you require provisions? I can get Cook to set aside some food suitable for a journey."

I shook my head. "I can pick up meals along the way. I'm not sure how long I'll be gone yet, but hopefully just a short while. A bit of travel-worthy fare for the first day or so out would suffice; more than that's not worth the bother of lugging about."

"Is the job dangerous?" Her brown eyes looked worriedly at me.

"Shouldn't be," I reassured her. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Should I return here or to your Rhemuth house?"

Lady Avisa pondered. "I was planning on staying here at least until the end of the month. Taggert's third birthday is coming up on the fifteenth, and we'll definitely be staying long enough to celebrate that. After that…well, I suppose we wouldn't need to head back to Kinlochan House any earlier than the end of June unless something unexpected comes up." She smiled at me. "And don't forget, when we _do _return to Rhemuth, you're supposed to help me look for more spacious accommodations."

"I've not forgotten, my lady." I finished my packing, securing the bundle and eyeballing it to make sure I'd not brought anything too large to fit into my saddle bags. "Speaking of Taggert, I hope his bad dreams last night had nothing to do with seeing Deryni magic yesterday?"

She sighed. "Well, yes and no. He dreamed that my hands had caught on fire and that it was hurting me. Once I showed him that handfire doesn't hurt and let him pass his own hand through it, he was fine. Settled right back down and fell asleep in moments."

"Good." I picked up my belongings, turning to face her. "This is the first time I've been sent on a mission since Amanda came to live with me. I'll explain to her why I need to leave for a while, but if she worries, would you reassure her that I _will_ be back?" I shrugged. "I just don't want her thinking I mean to abandon her or anything."

"I'll make sure she understands," Lady Avisa reassured me. "And I'll have Moira and Bridget set up her bed in the nursery until you return. Or, for that matter, permanently, if she decides she likes that better. I just thought being lodged with you at first might ease her adjustment to the move here."

"Thank you. And whichever she prefers is fine. She'll soon be growing too old to be sharing quarters with a father anyway."

She pressed something into my hand, blushing slightly. "For travel safety," she told me.

I glanced at the small medallion. "Saint Christopher?" I looped the chain around my neck. "Well, that's much nicer than the one my Uncle Denis gave me after I annoyed him last winter."

"What did he give you?"

"A medallion of Saint Simplicius."

"The patron saint of imbeciles?" She laughed. "What did you do to merit that?"

"Exist?" I grinned. "No, I think it was my Christmas gift to him that set him off."

"Which was?"

"A flowering houseplant imported from the warmer climes. I thought it would look quite nice in his study in Dhassa."

She bit her lip, struggling to keep a straight face. "There's a story behind this, isn't there?" An odd expression crossed her features, and her eyes widened. "Wait...Dhassa? You don't mean _Bishop_ Arilan?" She narrowed her eyes at me. "What sort of houseplant did you give him?"

I gave her my most innocent look. "A Bird of Paradise. Um...it's a long story..."

She exploded with laughter as I winked at her and headed for the nursery to take my leave of Grub.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

_June 8, 1134_

_Levington Castle, Barony of Levington_

"Was your daughter in the habit of wearing any particular piece of jewelry or some other token which might help identify her?" I was closeted with Lord Garulf, Baron of Levington, the man on whose behalf Kelson had sent for me.

The baron gave the question a bit of thought. "She was probably wearing her signet ring." He showed me the one he wore on his right hand. "It was of the same style as mine, only of course with the mark of cadency of an eldest daughter on the heraldic arms, and hers was on a lozenge rather than on an escutcheon."

I visualized the piece of jewelry he referred to. In truth, it wasn't difficult; even as he was describing it to me, I was subtly drawing forth a mental image of it from his mind. In the same way, I had already seen and committed to memory a vivid impression of his missing daughter Jennet. She should be easy enough to recognize, I figured, if only I could manage to track her down. Fortunately I had some ideas about how to do that, given that my total payment for this mission was in large part dependent on my success in achieving that goal. Kelson had provided a small purse of coin for my immediate needs in locating the runaway heiress, but the rest of the retainer would be paid for by the baron himself, and only upon the safe delivery of his daughter back into his loving care. Or, at the very least, more information about her whereabouts than anyone already possessed.

I gave a few moments of thought to phrasing my next question, wanting to approach the subject as delicately as possible. "You wouldn't happen to have any suspicion already about where she might have run off to...or why?"

The baron frowned slightly. "No idea where, really, or I'd not be hiring you. I'd thought maybe she'd run off to her aunt Zelda's manor—she's my sister—but I sent a messenger there straightaway, and they've seen no sign of her. As to why she's run off, she and I have had...ah...you might call it a difference of opinion."

"I see. Might I inquire what the disagreement was about? It might be relevant."

The baron's frown grew. "I can't imagine how it would be, but we quarreled over her upcoming marriage."

"Ah. You don't approve of her suitor?"

"Oh no, quite the opposite! I chose him, but for some reason the chit thinks he won't suit. Women!"

I worked up a sympathetic smile. "Maidenly shyness and all that?"

He snorted. "I suppose. She'd best get over it, though. He's certainly the best offer she's likely to get. Wealthy, titled, with lands directly on my eastern border, and to top it all off, he's been a close friend of mine for simply ages. We ride hunts together whenever we get the chance. You'd think she'd be thrilled!"

"You'd think." I didn't mention that I could easily think of several objections a woman might have for a suitor, no matter how wealthy or titled he might be, or close to the family nest, or chummy with her father. It wasn't too hard for me to stretch my mind for reasons, given my eldest sister's recent escape from a disastrous marriage that, on the surface of things, had appeared to be an ideal match, but which we later discovered had been a living hell for her. "And just in case your sister's messenger left her home only a short while before your daughter's arrival there, where is her manor?"

"Only ten miles northeast of here. But as I said, you won't find her there. Zelda has been sending me daily reports."

That seemed an unlikely refuge, then. "Any close friends she might have turned to? A foster sister, perhaps, or if she was convent-schooled, a friend from those days?"

He looked at me as if I'd grown an extra head. "Hell, no! She's not going to be a nun; why would I send her to a convent school?"

Why indeed? For an education, mayhap? I bit back the sarcasm. It would be counterproductive to getting any answers out of the man.

"One more thing. Would there be anything up in her chambers—some favorite article of clothing, perhaps, or maybe an item she was especially fond of—which she might have left behind in her haste to leave? If so, I might find it useful."

He stared at me curiously. "How?"

It wasn't an answer I felt inclined to answer truthfully, but thankfully an early mental probe of the baron had proven to my satisfaction that he wouldn't be able to Truth-Read me. "There's a possibility I might be able to narrow down my search to the point that a trained dog might prove useful."

The answer seemed to satisfy him. I thought it might; if naught else, I figured he'd be able to grasp the concept of a more literal hunt for his daughter easily enough. He shrugged. "You can go upstairs and look if you like." He turned to his steward. "Berthold, show Sir Sextus to my daughter's chambers."

Berthold, it turned out, ended up being an even more useful source of information. By the time I left Castle Levington, I had several of the maiden's more treasured trinkets in my possession as well as a decent list of leads where I might begin my search.

#

I decided to find a private area to set up camp that evening. What I had in mind was not the sort of thing that could easily be done in an inn, where a man traveling alone might well be asked to share not just a room but even a bed with a total stranger or five if the rooms were full up, or else be charged exorbitant prices if he insisted on complete privacy and an empty room happened to be available. Nor could I seek a pallet in the comfort of some monastic dormitory for similar reasons. Even now, with Deryni/human tensions easing considerably, many a monk or priest was still uncomfortable with open displays of magic. It had, after all, still been considered anathema less than a decade ago. Many clergy had issues with it even now, despite any reassurances Archbishops Bradene or Cardiel might have given regarding the proper uses of Deryni powers. A more open-minded priest might with good conscience allow that it was not evil to simply_ be_ Deryni or even to use certain inborn abilities such as Truth-Reading or the Healers' gift, yet still have trouble accepting more arcane uses of our powers out of misunderstanding or ignorance of what such rituals and mysteries entailed. So some completely secluded area would serve best for my purposes.

I found shelter just a short distance from the road I'd been traveling, at the base of a stony outcropping in a forested area, next to a briskly flowing stream. Here I set up a warded area to cloak my horse, my bedroll and the campfire, giving the illusion to any passers-by who might leave the nearby path that there was nothing out of the ordinary to see in this location. I could see through the wards, so I would know if someone happened to approach closer, yet they would see nothing more than stone, earth, sky and trees reflected back to them—exactly what they expected to see. It wasn't a foolproof illusion—there was the faintest chance that some random traveler might wander off the trail and walk straight into the invisible barrier around me, rebounding off the unseen dome. And should it chance to rain, the sight of raindrops pelting an empty dome of space might appear rather odd. But I'd taken every precaution to make certain the chance of anyone happening upon me in the first place was virtually nil.

My horse, quite used to such strange behavior from me, casually started nibbling at a tuft of grass, unfazed by the dome of energy overhead. I tended to his needs first before washing my hands in the stream and starting in on my own meal.

Once I'd eaten my travel fare, I was ready to begin. Sitting cross-legged on my makeshift bed, I stared into the bonfire, focusing my concentration. In one hand, I held a necklace that belonged to Jennet de Levington. It was not a very costly trinket, but it had once belonged to her mother, so the baron's daughter had valued it nonetheless. I was somewhat surprised the maiden had not taken it with her, though perhaps she had simply counted on returning home someday, once she was in less danger of being married off to her unwanted suitor.

The wooden beads were smooth as glass, well polished by years of wear and handling. As I meditated on the feel of them between my fingertips, my mind's eye saw an image in the flames. It was a woman's face, smiling back at me.

Not the right woman. No, she was probably the late baroness. I stifled a sigh and allowed myself to sink deeper into the trance.

#

In the end, it had not been the string of prayer beads nor my attempt to scry for the lass using a shiral crystal which had proven to be the most useful source of information, but the tiny book of wax tablets Berthold had slipped into my pouch as I was getting ready to leave. It contained four words. "Try Desse. Green Barrel."

Curious. I wondered if perhaps the maiden had had an ally in her flight from the familial nest. Though if Berthold had helped Lady Jennet run away, why was he now helping me try to fetch her back? Or was this just a simple hunch he had, and if so, what was it based on?

But my gut said Desse was as good a place to start my search as any. Besides, it had been some time since I'd had a drink or three at the Barrel. Maybe this time I could spend an evening there without some drunken fool trying to wipe the bar counter with my face. That had been unpleasant, though more so for him than for me, since at the time I'd been far more sober than I'd appeared to be. I'd punched his lights out, ordered another ale for the road, and made my way back to Rhemuth and then home to Tre-Arilan none the worse for wear aside from some spectacular bruising which drew surprisingly little comment from the family. They were still reeling from my sister Jashana's news that she'd somehow managed to net a Llyrian prince and was seriously considering not tossing him back into the pool.

Desse was also not all that far distant. Even a maiden unaccustomed to hard travel could make the journey to that port city in just under a day, if traveling on foot; much sooner if she'd managed to catch a ride on some pedlar's wagon who was carting his wares to a more populous market. The route was fairly well traveled and safe enough as country roads went. It seemed a logical place for a runaway to head to; from there, she could hire transport up or down the river Eirian if she were so minded, or she could blend in with the larger population to be found in such a port town. Well, perhaps not blend in very seamlessly, given her gentle birth and upbringing, not to mention her striking appearance, but I was rather counting on that. A pampered and sheltered noblewoman finding herself loosed upon the world at large for the first time shouldn't be so very difficult to track down.

Hopefully, if she'd headed for Desse, she'd not decided to leave it yet. It might be harder to track her down if she'd decided to take ship for some more distant port just as soon as she'd arrived, though I could still follow her trail with a bit of asking around after her at the docks. A beautiful, young highborn maiden traveling without a chaperone and seeking passage would definitely have drawn notice. Lady Jennet might have been the flighty sort, but unless her father's memories of her had somehow grown greatly exaggerated, she would have caught most men's eyes easily enough. That, of course, presented its own problems. Desse was hardly the safest town for a young woman to wander around in without a guardian. Hopefully the more ruffianly sorts would have the good sense to recognize her noble breeding and leave well enough alone long enough for me to haul her, most likely kicking and screaming, back to her father's hall where she belonged. Then again, if they had spotted her as a noble right off, chances are they'd have sent a ransom note to Levington already.

#

_June 9, 1134_

_The Green Barrel, Desse_

She proved to be ridiculously easy to find. I could only assume that Saint Catulina had been watching over her. Either her or Saint Simplicius. The chit was at the Green Barrel after all. How _had_ Berthold known she would be? I'd spotted her just as soon as I entered the dive and my eyes adjusted from the bright sunlight outside to the more dimly lit surroundings indoors. With her flaming red curls, she was quite difficult to miss. It also didn't hurt that she walked directly up to my table.

"What kin I offar ya, luv?" It was clear enough that she was trying to affect the accent of the local citizenry, even clearer that her attempt wasn't very successful. She might fool someone from across the Kingdom, but not anyone born within spitting distance of Desse, unless he were a deaf man. It was also apparent she'd not worked as a barmaid in this seedy neighborhood for very long, not with an opening line like that. Either that, or the baron's daughter was far less innocent than her father believed her to be.

"That depends on what you've got on offer, lovely. When's your shift over?"

She blushed crimson once she worked out my meaning. It took her several puzzled seconds. Good, then, the baron needn't add his daughter's virtue to his growing list of worries.

"I meant, goodman, will you be having wine or ale, or mayhap some of our fine stew?" I noticed her assumed accent went on walkabout when she was flustered.

"Ah, is that all?" I shot her a teasing grin. "Stew, then, and a pint of stout."

She disappeared into the kitchen, reappearing in a few minutes with a bowl of steaming stew and a tankard, setting both before me. I glanced at her hands. They were soft and pretty, showing no signs of having done hard labor, and one finger sported a ring that had been turned to show the band side up, as if it were a solid gold wedding band, though I suspected if I were to turn her hand palm-side up, I'd be greeted by a lozenge engraved with the heraldic arms of the Levington heiress. I dug into my belt pouch and fished out a coin. She automatically reached for it, but hesitated as she noticed what it was. Her brow furrowed in confusion. I'd placed a small gold coin in her hand rather than the expected silver or copper.

"It's a mark, goodman," she explained nervously. "Did you mean to offer me a penny? It's only three farthings a meal here, you see—two for the stew and one for the stout—and if you give me a penny, I can give you back a farthing in change."

"Oh, I know." I smiled reassuringly at her. "I'm fresh out of pennies, though; can you change it out?"

She bit her lip, looking baffled. I suspected I knew why; doubtless she'd never had to handle her own coin. She'd probably always had the bills of sale sent directly to the Levington steward to be paid out of the baronial coffers.

I suppressed a chuckle. "It's eight pence to the royal, and of course four royals to the mark. And, as you've just reminded me, there's four farthings to a penny. So if it's a three farthing meal, you would owe me…?"

She worked it out in her head. "Three royals seven-pence and a farthing?"

All right, so she wasn't short on basic education or intelligence. "That's right, sweeting." I reached in my pouch again, pretending this time I'd just discovered a viceroyal handy. "Or here, this will be easier for you to change instead." I took the mark back from her, offering her the silver coin in its place. She took a second to work out that a viceroyal, being half the value of a royal, would be worth four pence. Looking relieved, she reached into her own pouch, handing me three pence and a farthing in change.

"You're catching on," I told her approvingly, sneaking a peek at the palm side of her fingers as she counted out the proper currency. As I'd expected, the Levington arms with the eldest daughter's mark of cadency appeared on the hidden side of the ring. "Haven't worked here very long, have you?"

Her cheeks flushed. "Jus' started taday," she told me, her fake accent back on now that the currency conversion crisis was over.

"Do you live here above the Green Barrel?"

"I…well, no, it wouldn't really be proper." Her cheeks grew slightly rosy.

I had to work to stifle a laugh. So much of her current situation was improper, I failed to see how living above a tavern could possibly add to the awkwardness of her situation. Well bred young noblewomen didn't defy their father's wills and run off from home without so much as a chaperone or guardian, much less secure positions as barmaids.

"So, where do you stay when you're not working?"

She looked at me warily. "I probably ought not to tell you that." Good, then, she wasn't quite as stupid a chit as her impulsive actions might indicate.

"Quite right, I do apologize." I gave her a winning smile. "It's just that I'm newly arrived in Desse, see, and you're the first friendly face I've seen all day. I was hoping maybe we could have a tour of the town together after you're done here…take in the sights and all that. If you'd be willing to show me around, that is?" As I spoke, I idly spun a coin on the tabletop before me. Not one of too great a value, or she might worry that I meant to purchase her services for something more personal than a mere guide, but just high enough to tempt her into agreeing. Baron Garulf hadn't indicated that he'd noticed any money missing from his coffers after his daughter's departure, nor had Berthold, nor could I imagine she'd have sought employment quite this soon if she had a full coin purse to fall back on, so I figured she'd not look askance at the offer of enough silver to pay for her next few meals.

"I don't know Desse well either," she said slowly, watching the silver disk spin. "I've only been here a few days myself. But I suppose I could show you the few places I know."

"What time will you be free, then?"

"When the church bells ring Vespers."

I smiled, stopping the coin's spin. Kelson's face stared soberly up at me. I pushed the silver across the table towards Jennet de Levington.

"I'll stop back by just before that, then."

The stew had cooled enough to eat, so I started in, making plans for that return visit as I enjoyed the noonday fare.

#

"Nice looking horse," Lady Jennet observed as I led her around to the stables once she'd ended her shift. "Does he bite?"

"Not unless you're an apple," I told her, slipping a coin into the ostler's hand. "Feel free to introduce yourself to him, if you like. His name is Murray."

One of the grooms assisted her up onto the pillion behind me. She patted my mount tentatively. "Is he a courser?"

I grinned. "No, he's a rouncey, but feel free to call him a courser; you'll be his friend for life." I reached forward to pat Murray's neck fondly. "I do have a courser, but I rarely ride him to Desse."

"Why not?"

The ostler opened the gate, and we moved forward, Murray ambling out into the busy street at a leisurely walk. I chuckled at the lady's question. "Because Nightshadow is more valuable, and I'd prefer to still have my favorite warhorse when I've left off the night's drinking. This end of Desse isn't the best neighborhood, or have you not been working here long enough to have noticed that yet?"

"I thought you were newly arrived in town?" she asked, her voice tinged with suspicion behind me.

"Oh, I am..._this _visit, anyway." I glanced over my shoulder at her with a grin. "So, my fair flower, where shall we begin our tour?"

"Well...um..." There was a momentary silence. "I could show you the Church of Saint Maccul, I suppose."

I suppressed a wince. "You spend a lot of time hanging around so close to the docks after hours? Not the safest part of town at night, sweeting, especially for a woman alone."

"I suppose not, but then I'm not alone right now, am I?" A slight tremor in her voice belied the bravado.

"That's true enough." We continued down the road in silence until Murray reached a crossroads. I reined him in, made a split-second decision, and turned him east. This road was less congested, and he happily picked up speed, pedestrians moving to either side to let us pass as we approached.

"I think we're headed the wrong direction," my passenger told me.

"I know we are. Have you been to Desse Market yet?"

"No, but wouldn't the stalls be closing by now?"

"Oh, doubtless, but at least you'd know where it is when you need it." Not to mention that the Market lay between the waterfront and the route back to Castle Levington. "What's your name, sweeting?"

"My name?" She sounded wary. I swallowed a laugh. She'd agreed to go riding with me, a stranger, in the gathering dusk, but was leery of giving me her name? "It's...ah...Janela."

Close enough. She'd doubtless picked a name similar to Jennet so she'd remember to respond to it. "Ajanela? That's rather exotic, is it a Bremagni name? I'm Sextus."

Her arms tightened around my waist as Murray broke into a trot. "No, it's just Janela."

"Is it now? Well, that's fine. I'm just Sextus." The road widened once we got past the more crowded waterfront area, and with most of Desse's citizenry gone indoors with the waning of the sunlight, it was nearly empty now despite the bright moon rising overhead. Murray broke into a canter, causing Jennet to clutch more tightly at me despite his smoother gait.

"I...I t-think we were supposed to have turned right at that last road to go to Desse M-market," she stammered. I could sense her rising panic.

"We were. But you were right, they were closing up for the night anyway, so you've not missed much." I shot a glance over my shoulder at her. "Is there anyone I ought to send a message back to, my lady? Someone who might be concerned about you if you don't end up going back to your Desse lodgings tonight?"

Her panic bubbled free. "Where are you taking me, you ruffian?!"

"Home, sweeting. I'm sorry, but Desse isn't a very safe town for a highborn young maid to be wandering about in with no proper guardian. I know it's not where you want to go, and that you're out of sorts with your papa right now, but someday when you're a bit older and more experienced, I'm sure you'll look back on all this and thank me."

"You're not going to hold me for ransom, then?" she said, her voice small.

"No, sweeting."

"And...you're not going to ravish me, are you?" Perhaps it was just my imagination, but she sounded oddly disappointed. I choked back a laugh.

"No, I'm afraid not. I doubt I'd get the rest of my pay from your father if I do. And the King might have a word or two to say about that as well." Indeed Kelson would, and most assuredly they'd not be repeatable in polite company! "You're undoubtedly the loveliest traveling companion I've had in some time, but thirty sovereigns is a steep fine to pay to avoid losing my youth in Rhemuth's dungeon or your father's oubliette. I've never shelled out an entire year's wages to enjoy a woman's favors in my life, and I don't intend to start now, so unless your brief stay in Gwynedd's randiest port town has taught you how to be one hell of a seductress, your maidenhead is quite safe."

"I hate you!" She sounded tearful. I patted the hands clasped around my waist.

"I know. Hopefully you'll live to hate me for many more years to come, which is more than what I could guarantee you if I'd left you back in Desse."

#

I could have covered the distance between Desse and Levington easily enough that night, even with Murray double-laden as he was, but night travel had its attendant hazards, and I was not about to risk losing the baron's heiress to real highwaymen just as soon as I'd managed to acquire the chit. There was a convent not too far out of the way, and I briefly considered the merits of sheltering there for the night, but I couldn't put it past Lady Jennet to plead her case with the nuns, telling them I'd abducted her or worse in order to prolong her stay there. Granted, the baron would sort the matter out quickly enough once he'd gotten wind of it, but it wasn't a delay I wanted to risk. No, the lady would just have to deal with seeing Deryni magic up close and personal for one evening. Perhaps if she were the fearful sort, she might be cowed enough to remain on her best behavior once she saw my display of arcane powers.

Then again, perhaps not. I fought the urge to rub the place on my shoulder where she'd just bitten me in a fit of pique. The Lady Jennet didn't strike me as the easily cowed sort.

Fortunately, I'd planned for this contingency during my musings over my noonday meal. There was a suitable area for setting up camp just east of Desse, a few hundred yards off the main road, where I'd spent an evening or three under starry skies when my coin purse was too light to afford a room indoors. Like the place where I'd spent the previous evening, it also had close access to a fresh water source.

"We're leaving the road," my passenger complained as Murray veered off the main path. I didn't answer since she'd merely stated the obvious, and my attention was occupied by picking out familiar landmarks in the growing gloom.

"Are you easily frightened?" I asked her after a bit as my gaze attempted to pierce the shadows around us. Murray had been here before, and I trusted him to pick his sure-footed way across the short route, but still, even though his vision was better than mine, I wished we could both see the path ahead more clearly. The night was still young, but bands of outlaws sometimes roamed the countryside after dark, and I couldn't very well defend my charge if I couldn't see any attackers early enough to prevent an ambush. Fortunately, Murray knew exactly where to find the campsite, and he picked his way unerringly across the dark path. I trusted he had the good sense to alert me if he sensed any danger up ahead that my own Deryni senses had not picked up on already, but I hated going into any situation feeling half-blind, at least while I had a defenseless maiden in my keeping. I winced as my sore shoulder twinged. Well, _mostly_ defenseless.

"Not especially. I'm with you, aren't I?" I had to smile at her defiant tone. Yes, indeed, she still was, though that was in part because she hadn't been fool enough to jump off the back of a galloping horse. Murray had slowed back down to a walk now, though, and I didn't trust her not to try to make an escape soon.

Murray halted, and the sound of running water nearby told me we'd reached our destination. "Good, then." I formed a sphere of pale violet-blue handfire, sending it wafting into the air slightly above us to dispel the surrounding shadows. My horse, as ever, was unfazed by this display. Behind me, Jennet gasped, clutching my waist more tightly, but there were no screams or wails ensuing, just the motion of her leaning slightly to one side to peer around me.

"Does that…hurt?" she asked after a long moment. Not so much fear in her voice as simple curiosity. I smiled.

"No, my lady, not at all. If you'd like, I'll show you more when we set up camp."

_That_ got more of an upset reaction from her. "Set up camp? I can't camp with _you_; it wouldn't be _proper!"_

I burst out laughing. She glared at me while I patted Murray's neck and dismounted. She was still glaring as I helped her down, steadying her on her feet before using a sleep spell to keep her from bolting until I could set up protective wards around us.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

_June 9, 1134_

_Campsite near the road to Levington_

By the time the lady awakened from my sleep spell, I'd set up wards, unsaddled and tended to Murray, unrolled my bedroll and placed my captive upon it, created a cheery if somewhat small fire, and prepared an humble repast from the travel fare I'd sweet-talked the Green Barrel's cook into bundling up for me. I'd not told her I was about to steal her newest barmaid from her employ, of course. Hopefully she'd never make the connection between my departure and Lady Jennet's disappearance. For that matter, hopefully she'd never made the connection between her new barmaid and a missing noblewoman named Jennet, though that last might have been too much to hope for. Surely she must have at least suspected the establishment's latest hire was not some simple rustic wench fresh in from the country, much less any native of Desse.

Lady Jennet's eyes widened as she noticed the pale glow of the ward surrounding us. I waited for her to ask the questions she was undoubtedly thinking, but as I turned to face her more directly, her eyes slammed shut again and she feigned sleep. Fine; let her play her game a little longer. I stretched nonchalantly as I skewered a link of smoked sausage and held it over the fire.

A slow movement caught the corner of my eye. Without turning my head, I glanced in that direction. The baron's daughter was edging off my bedroll, easing her way closer to the blue-violet energies at our perimeter. I bit my lip to keep from smirking as she reached out a hand to touch it, but a laugh escaped as she yanked it back with a shriek.

"Mind your fingers, sweeting," I told her belatedly, not bothering to turn my head in her direction. I knew exactly what that jolt had felt like. I'd felt it a time or two myself, during my early training and in my more careless moments brushing too close to my own campsite boundaries even as an experienced adept. I'd been careful not to set the wards to killing strength, but the power bound up in it could still deliver quite a shock. She could probably still feel the tingle of magical energies in the fingertips she had stuffed into her mouth to soothe them.

"Go to hell!" she snarled at me around stinging fingertips.

"I'd rather not," I said mildly. "I've got at least one bishop praying fervently that I won't, and I'm hoping that will help balance out all the digging I seem to do in that direction." I grinned, offering her the skewered sausage I held. "Maybe some food will help your temper. I've also got bread and cheese if you like, and if you make like a well-bred young lady, I might even share my wine flask."

She stared up at the glowing dome around us, her expression grudgingly respectful. "What happens to me if something were to happen to you while I was in here?" she asked.

"Something like what?"

Jennet shrugged. "I don't know! What if you…died or something? Would that bubble thing disappear, or would I be trapped in here?"

I turned to stare at her. Hell's bells, what was she planning to do, steal my dagger and stab me in my sleep? "If I remember my training correctly, you'd be locked in here for all eternity. Or at least until you starve to death. So let's hope that doesn't happen, all right?" It was an outright lie—in actuality, the worst that could happen would be that she'd be trapped a day or two until the energies finally dissipated—but as I wanted to sleep sometime during the night, this didn't seem like the time for complete honesty. Not with a vengeful young Valkyrie glaring daggers at me, looking for all the world like she was ready to test my theory.

She returned to my bedroll, pouting. "Who told you where to find me? Berthold?"

Indeed, but I was hardly going to betray the man by saying so. "Lucky guess," I told her. "I figured if you were serious about getting as far as you could from Levington, you'd make for the nearest port. I hadn't figured on you serving me my nuncheon. Why _were_ you working at the Green Barrel?"

She stared at her hands. "I didn't have much coin on me when I left. I needed to earn enough to buy passage elsewhere. Berthold used to tell me stories about Desse; he grew up there and his niece works at the Green Barrel. I figured I'd be safe enough there until I could save up enough to go someplace else."

Obviously Berthold had been careful about which stories to share with a gently bred young maid if she'd been under the impression that the Barrel or any other establishment in its immediate environs was a suitable safe haven for a lady. Though, on second thought, the staff at the Barrel would have looked after the runaway chit well enough if she were known to be connected to family—even if the connection were so tenuous as a distant relation in service to nobility requesting the favor of them keeping an eye on a headstrong lass until she could be collected—and surely if Berthold had suspected she might turn up there, he'd have sent word on ahead. The Barrel might be a lowly dive in comparison with, say, the Gold Lion Tavern in Rhemuth, but on the other hand it was several steps up from that vicious hellhole I'd rescued Grub from in Nyford.

#

_June 10_

_Castle Levington_

"Welcome home, daughter!" Baron Garulf's arms opened wide to engulf his prodigal daughter in their hearty embrace. Clearly he had decided to let bygones be bygones. The sulky maiden gave him a perfunctory hug before retreating to her solar to lick her wounds.

The Baron turned to me once she'd left, lowering his voice so that no one who might be standing nearby could overhear. "She's not been violated, has she?"

I shook my head. "Not to my knowledge, anyway. Granted, she wasn't exactly minded to share confidences with me, but she appears to be hearty and whole enough. A spirited lass, your daughter, and not exactly helpless." I shrugged the shoulder she'd bitten the previous day, still smarting a bit.

"True, true. She's a fine filly, my Jennet."

I had to suppress a smirk at the observation. While 'Jennet' was a common enough name in parts of the Kingdom, being a variant on Joan, it was also the descriptor of a certain sort of horse. Knowing the Baron as I was beginning to, I had to wonder if his pride and joy had been named for a favorite ancestress or a favorite mare. Either choice was likely in his mind to be equally complimentary.

"Well, at least she's not been ruined in her little adventure, so I suppose as long as Lord Odwyn doesn't find out about it, there's no harm done, right?" Baron Garulf studied me cautiously. "King Kelson assured me that you are the soul of discretion."

"If by that you're obliquely asking if I intend to tell anyone about your daughter's brief sojourn in Desse, I assure you that your secret—and hers—is quite safe. I can't, of course, speak for anyone else who might have noticed her, but with any luck, no one who might have would have recognized who she was."

The Baron of Levington looked doubtful. "I don't know...I don't suppose you could go back there and...?" He traced a line across his throat with his fingertips, raising an eyebrow at me. I raised one in return. Surely he couldn't be asking me to return from whence I'd come and eliminate all possible eyewitnesses?

"No, my lord, I could not." Jesú, Kelson would hardly thank me for creating a bloodbath in Desse! Was the baron truly that mental? "Consider, my lord, where would I even start? I found her in a tavern; do you think they keep a list of everyone who entered and left during the days of your daughter's absence? Not to mention a list of persons she may have encountered in town, or on the road to Desse?"

"Well...I suppose it matters not, so long as her maidenhead's still intact and Lord Odwyn doesn't find out she ran off." The baron brightened. "It's fortunate you returned when you did. Lord Odwyn sent me word an hour ago that he intends to pay a call upon my pretty little filly this very evening. So you'll have a chance to see my future son-in-law."

An honor I could do well enough without. "I pray you'll excuse me, my lord, but I'd hoped to be well on my way back to Rhemuth by then." There was just the small matter of payment to be settled first.

The baron frowned slightly. "Oh, nonsense! You just got back; I'm sure you'll want resting up overnight, at the very least. I trust you'll understand if I don't actually introduce you to Lord Odwyn. But we have a troupe of jongleurs providing the night's entertainment, so it would be worth your while to stay and watch them perform." He gave me a faint smile. "Besides, you'll need to wait until after dinner at the very least to take your leave; Berthold has taken his half-day, and so he won't be able to settle accounts with you until he returns later this evening."

Well, that certainly convinced me as no other inducement could! After the trouble the baron's heiress had put me through, I was definitely not planning on leaving Castle Levington without the remainder of my pay.

#

Baron Garulf had been right about one thing; the jongleurs were well worth watching. They were, in fact, about the only good thing that could be said about the night's feast. The roast had been of indifferent quality, half-charred on the outside yet with the meat inside so underdone I fancied I could still hear the beast squealing under my knife, and it had been served up with a sallet so wilted and a frumenty so bland that I briefly considered simply gnawing on my trencher instead. Unfortunately it was baked so hard that even with the food's juices soaking into it, I was afraid I might break a tooth if I tried sating my hunger on the overdone bread.

How had Garulf grown fat and his daughter so beautiful on such fare? I could only surmise that Berthold wasn't the only member of the household who'd been given leave to be absent on that evening.

Berthold had returned, though at the moment he was occupied, having withdrawn from the Hall earlier than the rest, hopefully to count up the coin still due me. I glanced towards the High Table, craning my neck slightly to see around an acrobat who was contorting his lanky body into a shape so implausible, I wondered idly how he'd manage to get about if it actually ended up sticking in that position. To my host's right sat Lord Odwyn, the Lady Jennet's unwanted intended, and to his right sat the lady herself, sharing her suitor's trencher. Her storm-clouded features lifted at that moment, her gaze boring into me as if she were wishing death upon me thrice over. I was glad, given the lethality of her focus, that the maiden was no Deryni.

Lord Odwyn barely spared his attention for the lady, only distractedly shoving a few morsels of food her way. He speared a gobbet of pork roast enthusiastically, gesturing with wild animation with his knife as he carried on a spirited conversation with his host. The baron grinned, loudly appreciative laughter booming through the hall as he guzzled down more of his wine. The wine, at least, was of better quality than the rest of the meal. Berthold had seen to that much before quitting the Hall, bless him!

I stared in fascination as Lord Odwyn turned his head briefly to sneeze gustily over his food. He wiped at his nose with one sleeve and turned back to our host, evidently picking up right where he'd left off, heedless to the droplets of mucus now glistening upon his bushy beard like sparkles of dew. From the Baron's lack of reaction, I had to assume he saw nothing amiss with his guest's deportment. Lady Jennet, on the other hand, turned an unbecoming shade of green and pushed her end of the trencher away, evidently having lost her appetite completely.

The steward of Levington returned to the Hall. He gave a brief glance around the room, spotting me, and discreetly made his way to my side. "The remainder of your fee, my lord," he murmured as he reached me, handing the pouch to me beneath the table's edge.

I surreptitiously tested its weight as I affixed the pouch ties to my belt. "My thanks, milord Berthold." I glanced towards the damsel at the High Table, feeling vaguely sorry for the poor chit despite her ill treatment of me the night before. I could hardly blame her for that anymore, now that I'd seen the man her father intended to give her to. In her place, I'd have bitten me too. "Will she do all right with him, do you think?" I asked the loyal old retainer, seeking reassurance.

The man frowned. "Hopefully it won't come to that. I'm still hoping Lord Garulf will come to his senses and find a more suitable mate for his daughter. But if he doesn't..." He sighed. "I suppose I should have told the dear child more stories about the other side of my family in the Free Port of Concaradine." He gave me a wry smile and patted my arm. "Not your fault, lad. You had your orders, as I have mine. Though had I known for certain she'd actually _gone_ to Desse, I might have told you to try Nyford instead." He sighed. "If only the man's lands weren't directly adjoining the baron's, I'm sure he'd be far more amenable to reason. Normally he's quite solicitous of Lady Jennet's wishes—a bit _too_ solicitous at times, if you ask me—but the prospect of a future grandson inheriting both his own lands and de Roet's manors has deafened his ears to other possibilities."

I watched as the lady slipped away from the table, unnoticed by either father or suitor, to retreat to her chambers. "Has she some other suitor that she favors?" I asked.

Berthold shook his head. "Oh, I'm certain she'd favor pretty much any man who might ask for her hand at this point, so long as he wasn't Odwyn de Roet or some other of his ilk. But it's not the Lady Jennet who must be won over, but her father."

Another roar of laughter ensued from the High Table. The Baron slapped his thigh, wiping at tears of mirth. I stood, tearing my eyes away from my host and his favored guest. "Berthold, I think I shall require a bed for the night after all. It's growing quite late, and I begin to think Baron Garulf is right; my trip to Rhemuth can wait until morning."

"Very well, my lord." Berthold studied me with a faint smile, though he forbore to ask the question brewing in his eyes. It was just as well; I'd not have answered him honestly. What he didn't know, he couldn't be held responsible for not stopping.

#

_June 11, after midnight_

_Castle Levington_

The Great Hall was silent, aside from the occasional grunt or snore from a member of the baron's household. I rose from my pallet as silently as I could. The straw filled mattress rustled slightly in the darkness, but no more so than any of the other pallets cushioning restless servants as they slept.

I extended my senses, using my Deryni gift to ensure that no one besides myself was still awake, perhaps simply feigning sleep. All of the minds around me were caught up in either the stillness of dreamless slumber or the characteristic sort of mental activity that I'd come to associate with a dreamer's sleep. Excellent, all was just as I'd hoped I'd find it.

I crept out of the Hall and up the staircase leading to where I knew I would find the baron's private chambers. I knew exactly where I was headed; I had, after all, been there once before. Deep inside, I thanked Berthold for the tour he'd given me three days earlier, though doubtless he'd not guessed I'd put my newly gained knowledge to such use.

There it was…the third door on the right. I lay a cautious handle on the doorknob, extending my senses within. As I'd hoped, all was silent inside. There were two people within—one mind caught up in dreaming, the other one quiescent. I touched the dreamer's mind once more. It was Jennet's, and her dreams were troubling her. I could hear a quiet whimper through the wooden door.

I briefly toyed with the idea of pushing both minds into a deeper state of sleep, but I wasn't sure I could do so from this distance with unfamiliar minds and no direct physical contact. In theory it was possible, but there was too much at stake for me to risk the attempt. I could, if I mucked things up too badly, accidentally jolt one or both into complete wakefulness instead. Definitely not something I wanted to risk.

I held my breath and turned my focus to the tumblers in the door's lock instead, using my mind to shift each one as silently as I could until I felt the door's latch turn freely under my hand. I pushed the door open. It creaked quietly on its hinges. One sleeper stirred, but only long enough to roll over on her trundle. She appeared to be one of the lady's maidservants.

I walked on cat feet towards the dreamer, pondering the best way to approach her. I meant this as a rescue, but considering our last encounter, she was unlikely to view it in that light or to be cooperative. The last thing I needed was for her to wake up screaming that there was a man in her bedchamber looming over her, intending mischief and mayhem. Kelson would be less than charmed to hear this explanation for how one of his knights' steaming carcasses ended up dumped on his doorstep, and while I believed I could probably best the baron or his prospective son-in-law in a fair fight, I didn't care to take my chances against the entire Levington household. No, it would probably be for the best if I left her sleeping for the moment.

I touched the maidservant's brow softly, sending her into the deepest slumber possible without stopping her breathing altogether. Hopefully she would remain sound asleep until the dawn's light. I did something similar to Lady Jennet, but with a much lighter touch. I wanted her easily awakened, but only when _I_ was ready for her to be.

Once I was assured she would stay asleep, I lifted her out of the bed. Quite fortunately, she was a dainty little damsel; I felt grateful she'd evidently taken after her late mother and not after her hulking brute of a sire. Turning towards the door, I realized the first flaw in my plan. Carrying her in both arms as I was would leave me unprepared to draw my sword if anyone chanced to notice our departure. No, that would hardly do. Shifting her weight, I tossed her over my left shoulder instead, freeing my sword arm. Much better. I grinned to myself as I realized the inherent dangers of carrying the volatile lass in this position; it was a plan that could end up biting me on the backside quite literally, if the chit awakened too soon and decided to defend herself from her abductor. The thought of simply gagging the feisty little ferret held a certain charm, but I suspected such a move would far outstrip the boundaries of gentlemanly behavior, if hauling her about like a sack of turnips had not done so already.

I stopped at the door to listen and sense my surroundings before opening it again. As I'd hoped, all was still quiet within the castle. I slipped out, making my way silently yet swiftly towards the stables below.

#

Fortunately my saddle and all my kit were easily found near Murray's stall, for I dared not wake a groom to ask after them. There'd be too many questions about my sudden departure in the middle of the night as it was, and even more once the heiress's disappearance was discovered. My preference would have been to have left the castle the night before, so the Baron and his men would assume me well on my way to Rhemuth by the time the maiden was discovered missing, but while I'd felt confident I could make my way from the Hall to her chamber during the wee hours of the morning and pick my way through one locked door, I'd been less confident I could sneak my way back into a mostly unfamiliar castle's outer defenses singlehandedly without drawing the attention of the presumably alert night guards.

I pondered my options as I tacked up, saddling Murray, checking and tightened the saddle's girth, making sure the saddlebags were secured, securing bit and bridle. There was a groom I'd discovered sleeping nearby; I altered his memories as he slept, giving him the false memory of having been awakened in the middle of the night to make ready my horse because an urgent message had just arrived summoning me back to Rhemuth immediately. He would remember little else besides that, his focus naturally being on waking up enough to get my rouncey saddled, but he'd have some vague memory that it had been one of the castle guards who had awakened him.

Yes, that would do. By the time it became apparent that none of the guards had similar memories of coming to the stables to awaken the groom en route to fetching me from the Hall, I'd be long gone. Or perhaps it might even be possible to approach one of the guardsmen and plant such memories? That would be even better, if it could be managed. How to manage it, though...

I glanced at the sleeping heiress. Now was as good a time to wake her as any; I certainly didn't want to be burdened with her dead weight while making my escape, if she could be coaxed into riding silently. And I thought, given the alternative of marrying Lord Odwyn, she could be quite easily convinced to help me lure one of the guardsmen out of sight of his companions long enough for me to plant the false memory of the summons in his mind. If only I could get her to listen to my plan rather than simply react with disgust and horror upon her first sight of me.

Fortunately, I had an idea for that as well.

I probed at a certain spot within her mind, rendering her temporarily mute before I woke her up.

#

She would have screamed when she saw me, but I'd already eliminated that threat, so she settled for kicking sharply at my ankle. Fortunately I caught the movement from the corner of my eye and dodged just out of range.

The lady struggled to her feet. Stepping back into range of the flailing fists, I grabbed her by one wrist, pulling her roughly towards me so I could pin her arms to her sides_. Listen to me, you little hellion; I'm trying to rescue you!_ I Mind-spoke to her as I drew her close.

She gave up her fight, although her eyes still looked suspicious as they glared up at me, studying my face in the dim moonlight streaming in through the stable window.

_Do you want me to take you with me, or shall I leave you here to marry Lord Odwyn? I could, you know. It's your choice. I'll not force you to leave here if you've changed your mind and decided to become Lady de Roet after all._

The fury in her face slowly subsided, turning into confusion. I decided to relax the control I'd set in her mind, allowing her to whisper. "Why are you doing this?" she asked once she realized that she could.

I sent her a brief impression of Lord Odwyn as I'd seen him the previous night, sneezing over her food, wiping his nose on his sleeve, and—I wasn't sure whether to consider it worst or best of all—almost completely ignoring his bride-to-be. _ Look, we got off to a bad start, but I have sisters. I can't imagine either of my sisters being given over to a lout like that._ _Is the baron your father mad, an imbecile, or simply land-greedy? _One of those sisters had once been given over to a husband far worse than Lord Odwyn, but at the time neither my brother Seisyll nor I had realized it. And once we did…well, _that_ impediment to our Javana's happiness no longer existed.

The emerald eyes looking up at me filled with tears. I bit back a curse; the last thing I wanted to deal with right now was a crying woman. Actually, the last thing I wanted to deal with _ever_ was a crying woman, but now was definitely not a good time. _So, are you coming with me, or would you prefer just to head in some other direction as I look the other way?_ That would make my life so much easier, come to think. If she decided to run off on her own again, I could simply unsaddle Murray and put all my kit back, sneak back into the Hall and return to my pallet as if I'd never left it, and when the damsel was discovered missing in the morning, accept another half-pouch of coin in exchange for assurances that I'd search for her again. And then I'd avoid Desse, Concaradine, and every other port in Gwynedd for the next decade. It was a nice fantasy while it lasted.

"Maybe you're not such a thoroughgoing bastard after all," she whispered. "I'll go with you. If nothing else, you're better than Lord Odwyn."

It was hard to say whether that was damning with faint praise or praising with faint damns. Normally I love it when a plan goes right. This time, though, I suspected I'd bitten off far more than I could chew.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

_June 15, 1134_

_Chateau de Moreau, Barony of Kinlochan_

As luck would have it, we arrived at Kinlochan's baronial seat just in time for little Lord Taggert's birthday celebrations. I'd even remembered, by some miracle, and had stopped to pick up a hobby-horse along the way as a present for the young lordling. We had, of course, bypassed Rhemuth altogether. After having told the baron of Levington and his steward on several occasions on the evening prior to my departure that I was heading back to Court, and especially after implanting false memories of my urgent summons back there in his stableman and guard, I figured that would be the first place they'd search for me if they suspected I'd made off with the baron's daughter. Or, for that matter, even if they had no idea I had, but simply hoped to employ me to track her down again. I knew I would owe Kelson an explanation for the sudden change in plans, and preferably sooner rather than later, but in the three days since we'd fled Levington, I'd yet to come up with exactly what explanation to offer to the King about why I'd run off with a baron's heiress. _It had seemed a good idea at the time?_ That was unlikely to suffice. _I'd wished to spare her the poor lass an unhappy marriage?_ I knew the King well enough to know he'd be privately sympathetic—he, after all, had managed to dodge the snares of so-called marital bliss for years before finding his soulmate in Queen Araxie—yet the hard truth was that it was a noblewoman's duty to wed for such practicalities as land inheritance and secure border alliances just as much as it was a nobleman's. Kelson himself had finally, after a prolonged season of mourning for a first wife he'd barely known and who hadn't lived long enough to be bedded, followed by a longer season of endless bride-dodging and dithering, managed to muster up the gumption to sacrifice his virginal all on the matrimonial altar for the Kingdom's sake, before love for his newly affianced bride-to-be unexpectedly gob-smacked him between the eyes and turned duty into delight. And Lady Jennet was, after all, the heiress to Levington, not some daughter much farther down the string of heirs and spares who might be granted a bit more leniency of choice in whom she was allowed to wed. Kelson, despite his personal feelings on the matter, was hardly likely to override a father's wishes for his daughter unless urgent matters of state were at stake.

_I wanted to marry her myself_? Bloody hell, no! I cast a wary glance over my shoulder. Lady Jennet ducked her head shyly at me, giving me a sidelong smile through thick lashes. I suppressed a groan. One unforeseen consequence to my rescue of the damsel in distress was that she'd gone from thinking me a loathsome ruffian to deciding I was her hero.

I faced forward again, riding resolutely on towards Chateau de Moreau, gleaming in the distance across the fertile, well-tended fields of Kinlochan. I'd ask Lady Avisa for her advice. Surely she'd understand Jennet's predicament and could help us brainstorm some solution. She too had been given in marriage at a young age—at Lady Jennet's age, come to think—to a man she'd had as little choice about wedding as young Jennet was given with Lord Odwyn. Surely the dowager Baroness would sympathize. How could she not? Together, I was certain we'd figure out some plan of action that would be mutually satisfactory for all parties concerned. Or at least most of them. Or at least some.

Or, at the very least, something I could say to placate Kelson.

How the hell had I gotten myself in this fix?

Warm arms clutched my waist more tightly, and I felt the maiden rest her cheek against my back. I knew how. There was a woman involved. Women had ever been my downfall. Women, dicing, and strong drink, but I'd been stone cold sober when I'd left Levington, and there'd not been a single gaming den in sight, so I hadn't had even those latter two excuses.

No, it was a woman who had proven my undoing this time around. Yet another baffling, unpredictable female swooping in to wreak havoc in my life. Somehow, it usually was.

#

"What in heaven's name were you thinking, Sir Sextus?" Lady Avisa chided me in private much later. She'd not been nearly as sympathetic as I'd hoped when I'd shown up unannounced with a stray maiden in tow. Oh, she'd been glad enough to see _me_ back in her Hall, but as for Lady Jennet...well, the Dowager Baroness of Kinlochan had played the gracious hostess well enough, once she'd gotten past her initial shock, but I could tell her heart wasn't in the welcome. One didn't have to be an expert in reading females to gather that much. Her lips curved in what might have passed for a smile as she spoke to her unwanted guest and had Master Lars escort her upstairs to a guest chamber, but her eyes glared daggers in my direction every time they left Lady Jennet. Jennet, thankfully, had seemed oblivious. Or perhaps she was simply feigning innocence. For whatever reason, she took Lady Avisa's welcoming words at face value.

"Or were you even thinking? And with which organ, might I ask?" My employer whirled to face me.

I felt my cheeks warm. "It's not what you're thinking. I haven't any vested interest, it's just that... My Lady, if you'd seen the man her father had picked out for her, you'd understand!" I tried a winning smile, laying a coaxing hand on her arm as I mentally shared an image of Lord Odwyn with her. She grimaced in distaste, pulling away from me.

"All right, I'll grant he's no prize. But still, that's an issue you should have brought up with her father." She threw her hands up, shooting me an exasperated glare. "Sextus, you simply can't haul every unhappy maiden back home with you just because she's about to have her hand given to some man who falls a bit short of perfect!"

"A bit short of _perfect_? Jesú, lady, can you honestly say he falls even just a bit short of mediocre?"

Avisa looked at me as if she found me a bit dim. "Is that what you're planning on telling Kelson? 'I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but I've abducted a damsel from her legal liegelord because I don't approve of his choice of husband for her. He falls short of mediocre.' Jesú, Sextus, it hardly matters if he barely falls short of Lucifer himself, the point is, she's not _your_ responsibility! I'll grant her father's choice for her seems quite loathsome. So if you feel sorry for his daughter, point out some better options to _him_! If his heart isn't swayed by her preferences, appeal to his reason or his greed...whatever's most likely to get through. Don't just steal the chit and think that solves the matter! Really, my lord, do you truly think that either the King or Holy Church is going to bar any man's marriage on the grounds that the oaf's too ghastly to wed? I hate to say it, but Gwynedd is doubtless chock full of equally ghastly men—after all, you can't _all_ be handsome, dashing sorts—and yet they've all got the right to try to marry _someone_!" She turned away from me, staring out the window. "If Lady Jennet truly wishes to remain unwed, all she has to do is say no, either to the betrothal or to the marriage vows. Her father can put pressure on her to agree to the match, but when it comes right down to it, the Church won't solemnize a marriage made under duress."

"In theory, it won't," I agreed. "In practice, all a man has to do is find a chaplain willing to take bribes."

"She could seek refuge in a convent, then. They won't turn her out, especially if she tells them she wishes to take holy vows."

I tried to imagine Lady Jennet taking holy vows. Raising a holy ruckus, yes. But vows to a divine calling? Not likely. "I've heard her swear a few choice oaths, but it's hardly the same thing."

Lady Avisa sighed. "At any rate, Sir Sextus, the woman can't stay here. I'll allow her to spend the night, of course—I'd hardly pitch her out with no protector—but you need to bring her back to her father. Or take her to the King instead, if you prefer, if you think you can convince him to approve some other course of action, though I doubt it. In any case, I'm not willing to harbor a fugitive indefinitely; the last thing I need is for Levington to find out where his daughter's run off to and bring a case against Kinlochan before the Royal Court! Or, worse, simply take up arms against me, though hopefully the man's got too much sense to think Kelson will take kindly to one of his barons simply attacking another without attempting some sort of peaceful resolution first."

I couldn't see either of those options going over well with Lady Jennet. If I tried to bring her back to Levington, she'd fight me every step of the way once she realized where we were headed. Bringing her to Kelson instead didn't seem like a much better option. As long as I didn't have to deal with the King directly, there was still the option of seeking forgiveness rather than permission for my actions later, and I hadn't screwed things up so badly that I felt Kelson would be disinclined to be lenient. Yet. But if he heard the lady's case and _then_ ordered her home regardless of her wishes—and wherever his personal sympathies might lie, there was no legal reason why he wouldn't—I'd have no choice but to return her to Garulf and Odwyn, with the maiden kicking and screaming the entire way. And then I'd get an earful from the King upon my return to Court, _if _he felt inclined to allow my return at all. After all, my standing in the Royal Court depended entirely on how well I carried out the King's missions, and he had hired me to be his discreet agent, not his court fool.

"Oh well, at least I've got another night to come up with some solution," I muttered. I stared at Lady Avisa in bafflement. "I felt sure you'd understand! After all, _your_ arranged marriage didn't live up to your hopes either, did it?"

She gaped at me. "Well, no, but that was only because I was a silly little fool ignorant enough to still be dreaming that _you_ might eventually notice me, you numpty!"

"Oh!" I gaped back at her, feeling pole-axed. "You…were hoping _I'd_ offer for you?" The latter half of the sentence came out almost as a squeak.

She raised her chin proudly, crossing her arms before turning to stare out the window again. "When I was _her _age, mayhap. But don't worry, Sir Sextus, you'd not have stood a chance. I made the mistake of asking my father about you once, right after our first meeting. He told me it would be a balmy spring day in West Hell before he'd allow you to call upon me."

"Then…why are you so upset?" There was no answer. I lapsed into silence, too confused to know what else to say. She shook her head as if I was a sad specimen of humanity too hopeless to deal with any longer, and fled the room.

#

"Six!" Grub's blue-violet eyes brightened as she spotted me, and I thought I saw a look of profound relief cross her face. My daughter, not waiting for the nursemaid's permission, ran across the garden courtyard towards me before remembering her manners and skidding to a stop to offer me a polite curtsey instead. The nurse glanced at me hesitantly, as if awaiting some cue from me as to whether she should call my child back until a more convenient time to welcome her father home, or allow her to continue her wild dash towards me.

I smiled and held out my arms. Grub catapulted herself the rest of the distance to me, crushing greenery the entire way. Doubtless Master Lars would have something to say to me about it later, but at that moment, I didn't care. I lifted the child up into the air, making her squeal with laughter. Even in the short time since my departure, she seemed to have put on a little more weight, and healthy color was in her cheeks. Glancing past her at Nurse Moira, I nodded my thanks to her. She curtseyed back, gathering her other charges to continue their stroll to the other side of the gardens.

Grub hit me as I set her back down on the ground.

"Ouch! What was that for?" I scolded as I released her. "Use words, not fists."

Tears shimmered in her eyes. "You scared me!"

I crouched to get a better look at her face. "I scared you? I didn't lift you all that high, poppet."

"Not _that_ way." Her lips quivered. "You left me!"

"Yes, I'm sorry I had to leave so suddenly. I was called on the King's business. We talked about that before I left, remember?"

She hung her head, sniffling. "But you were gone so long! I thought you'd never come back. Lady Avisa kept saying you'd be home soon, but you weren't."

I hugged her gently. The absence hadn't seemed all that long to me, but it must have seen like a short eternity for a young child, especially one who had spent most of her life feeling unwanted. "Well, I did, and I'm here now, aren't I?"

She nodded again, blinking rapidly to clear the moisture from her eyes. "I guess I don't hate you anymore, then."

I chuckled, sitting on the ground and pulling her onto my lap. "I suspect you didn't really hate me even when I was gone. You were just angry with me for leaving you behind, weren't you?"  
"I guess." She glared up at me. "Why can't _I_ go with you on the King's business?"

I was a little taken aback. "Well…for one thing, you're not in the King's service. And for another, you're still far too young. And while this particular job wasn't all that dangerous, sometimes the work _can_ be. It's not really the sort of work that's suited for a lady."

"Why not? Ladies can do stuff too, can't they?"

"Well…yes…ladies do all sorts of stuff!"

"In the King's service?" Her eyes challenged me.

"Um…yes, I suppose so." A sudden thought presented itself to me and I grabbed it gratefully. "Like, for instance, take Duchess Meraude. She's served as the King's chatelaine for years."

Grub cocked her head at me, looking interested. "What does a chatelaine do?"

"Uh…." In truth, I hardly knew myself. I'd always taken the resident ladies of Rhemuth Castle more or less for granted. "I imagine she sews a lot, and she supervises the castle staff, and makes sure the meals are to the King's tastes, and…ah…that sort of thing." I shrugged. "A bit like your Aunt Sophie does for Tre-Arilan, I'd think, only…well…a whole lot more of it…."

"Oh." Grub deflated slightly. "Boring stuff, you mean. What sorts of _fun_ stuff do ladies do?"

I couldn't exactly tell her the first thing that leapt to mind; repeating it would hardly be suitable. Not that I'd really had any experience with _ladies_, per se. Rustic wenches, most certainly, but in my mind there was a significant difference. Dalliances with country girls wouldn't put my place at Court at any risk, after all, but I'd had it drummed into me since earliest boyhood that country lasses and common-born serving girls were for having fun with, but noblewomen were for admiring from a respectable distance until a man was ready to marry and get heirs. And since I had nothing worth passing down to a son, what was the point of looking for a lady to wed?

The bastard daughter of a mere knight errant would certainly not be serving any King in _that _way, at any rate! I wrenched my thoughts back to the question. "Hm. Well, they tend to their babies…." I was running out of ideas. "What sort of thing would _you_ consider fun?"

"Going on adventures with you." Her eyes met mine in challenge. "And learning magic."

I smiled. That latter idea was certainly in the realm of possibility. Kelson was quite likely to insist, in fact, given the lack of formally trained Deryni in Gwynedd. "Yes, you could most certainly learn more magic, though you'll have to grow into your full powers before you can do anything more than a few simple spells." Another thought occurred to me, one that was certain to please my daughter more than the thought of having to learn the usual womanly duties expected of a wife or chatelaine. "Deryni talents, whether wielded by men or by women, will always prove useful to the Haldane Court, I imagine. King Kelson might find a place of service for you yet, if you're a diligent student of the magic arts. Though you know, you'll have to learn the boring stuff as well. Even _I_ had to learn a lot of boring stuff."

"That's all right, as long as I can learn fun stuff too." She beamed, and I suppressed a relieved sigh. Hopefully by the time she discovered that, trained Deryni or not, the King wasn't likely to be sending a young lady on the same sorts of 'adventures' that he sends me on, she'd have found too many other interesting outlets for her bright mind and insatiable curiosity to care.

#

As Lady Jennet and I had arrived at Kinlochan on young Taggert's third birthday, there was no getting out of the celebratory feast in the Great Hall that evening, nor could I hope for a discreet spot on some bench at the end of the hall farthest from the dais and High Table. No, as Taggert was the guest of honor at this night's feast, that meant his brother and my daughter would be out of the nursery as well, at least for the early part of the meal. Not to mention that we had a baron's heiress as a guest this evening, and despite the Lady Avisa's personal feelings on _that _matter, she was hardly going to be so discourteous a hostess as to not invite a noblewoman in temporary residence under her roof to join the rest of Kinlochan's nobility at High Table.

Thus it was I found myself seated at High Table with the baronial family and my daughter, sharing a trencher with my latest acquisition from Levington, who clung to my left arm like a barnacle on a rock. On my right sat Grub.

Grub peeked curiously past me at the new arrival as we approached our seats. Lady Jennet gave her an uncertain smile back.

"Lady Jennet, may I present my daughter Amanda. Amanda, this is Lady Jennet de Levington." I made the introductions quietly as I handed Grub into her seat before taking my own.

The lady gave me a startled look. "You're married?" she asked.

I briefly toyed with the idea of inventing a convenient wife, but I wasn't quick enough. "No, he's not," Grub answered for me.

"Oh. I see." Lady Jennet brightened. "I'm sorry for your loss, then, Sir Sextus."

"_I'm_ not sorry," Grub said cheerfully.

"Oh, look…turnips!" I interjected hastily as the servers headed for our table.

My daughter grimaced. "Turnips are vile."

I really didn't care what opinion she held regarding turnips or other vegetation, just so long as I could get her off the unfortunate subject of her mother and steer the conversation into safer territory.

Grub continued to study our guest covertly as she stabbed at the bits of meat on her trencher. "Looks like a screamer to me," she observed in a loud whisper.

_More of a scrapper and a scold, actually,_ I answered via Mind-speech, hoping she'd take the hint and reply—if she was planning to—likewise. At least I _hoped_ I'd construed her meaning correctly, and she was merely alluding to the maiden's temper. If she wasn't, then I certainly hoped we weren't going to continue this conversation at High Table. Or, for that matter, at all! I wondered what advice the Books of Courtesy had to share, if any, about the best way to raise the most streetwise nobleman's chit in all the Eleven Kingdoms. Even Jashana, the bolder of my two sisters, came across as a sheltered convent-bred innocent in comparison with my worldly little seven-year-old guttersnipe! Belatedly, I wondered if my niece Stefania was still harboring illusions that a Bird of Paradise was nothing more than an exotic avian species, or if Grub had disabused her cousin of this notion during her brief residence at Tre-Arilan? If so, that would certainly explain why Seisyll had looked so relieved when I informed him of Lady Avisa's offer to install me as Kinlochan's newest steward, and why he'd all but flung my daughter's belongings out the door with a joyful smile plastered to his face as we departed our former chambers.

_Why'd you bring her here?_ Grub asked me.

_She's...ah...connected to the mission the King sent me on,_ I replied.

Grub craned her neck to peer around me at Lady Jennet, who was oblivious to the unspoken conversation taking place beside her and who was chattering away quite cheerfully at me, her features alight with admiration as she smiled winningly up at me. _She's your mission?_ Grub raised her eyebrow at me, looking peculiarly like a miniature female version of my Uncle Denis. _And the King _pays_ you for that?_

I blushed. _I don't know what _you're_ imagining, but I was sent to find her. She went missing for a short while._

Grub gave me a skeptical look. _She don't look very missing to me now. If she presses up any closer to you, she'll be sitting in your lap. Are you planning on keeping her?_

"No!" Lady Jennet stared at me, startled, and I realized I'd accidentally said the word aloud, and rather forcefully at that. I wondered what she'd just been prattling on about, and if my unexpected response had been in any way appropriate to what she'd been telling me.

"Well, if you feel _that _strongly about it..." The maiden's emerald eyes widened, and she hastily ducked her head to hide her mortification. I, of course, having no idea what I'd just said "No" to with such vehemence, had no idea what words of comfort or explanation I might offer for my sudden brusque denial.

I glanced down the table at Lady Avisa, seated between her two sons and smiling at the birthday boy's excitement at finding a coin baked in his cake. She glanced up at me, her laughing eyes briefly shining with delight as her gaze met mine, then she chanced to look past me at Lady Jennet and the smile dimmed, becoming merely coolly polite. She turned her attention pointedly back to her child. A chill descended upon the room that had nothing to do with any inadequacy of the flames dancing on the Great Hall's hearth.

It was, I decided, one of the more hellish evenings of my entire existence.

#

****_June 16, 1134_

_Chateau de Moreau, Barony of Kinlochan_

The idea came to me in the middle of the night, as I lay sleepless in my bedchamber, but I thought it could well be the answer to my dilemma regarding Lady Jennet. She could clearly not remain here—even had Lady Avisa been more receptive towards the idea, I saw now that harboring the baron of Levington's runaway daughter could embroil two of Kelson Haldane's baronies in a dispute that the King would hardly thank me for. On the other hand, I still had no stomach for returning her to the near-certainty of a forced marriage to Lord Odwyn, nor did I think that Lord Garulf her father would be amenable to hearing any arguments I might make against the match.

However, a third option had occurred to me, offering up a glimmer of hope. My sister Javana had been living at a sanctuary in Derry for the past year, ever since the death of her husband Walter. Hers had been a horrific marriage, and after his quite welcome demise she'd needed time to recover her bearings in a sanctuary where she could regain her physical and emotional strength while recovering from her husband's abuses. She'd also found renewed strength and purpose in devoting her energies towards helping other women in need, which seemed to be helpful to her own recovery, at least judging from the letters Uncle Denis forwarded to Tre-Arilan from her on occasion. Surely the Saint Nicholas Sanctuary for Widows and Orphans would gladly take Lady Jennet off my hands, despite her being neither widowed nor precisely orphaned. At least I was hoping I could convince Countess Celsie, the sanctuary's patroness, of Jennet's need for safe shelter. One of the few things I could remember my sister-in-law Sophie mentioning about Celsie's younger years was that the Countess had only narrowly escaped a traumatic forced marriage of her own once, so surely she'd be sympathetic to the baron's daughter's plight.

Yes, that was what I would do. I would propose the idea of seeking shelter at Countess Celsie's sanctuary to Lady Jennet in the morning. The plan would require me to leave Kinlochan for a short while longer, of course, but I could hardly imagine Lady Avisa would deny me the additional time away. After all, _she_ had been the one who'd urged me to find some other solution to Lady Jennet's plight than a permanent stay at Kinlochan, so she could hardly argue against me conveying the maiden elsewhere. Musing on how I would broach the subject with her over breakfast, I soon fell fast asleep.

#

"Not just no, Sir Sextus, but hell no!" Lady Avisa stared incredulously up at me over her breakfast. "Bringing the lady back to her father or even to the King in Rhemuth is one thing, but hauling her across half the Kingdom without a chaperone? Are you out of your everloving mind?" The look she gave me left me in no doubt as to what _her_ answer to that question might be.

"Well, my lady, you asked me to find some solution to the dilemma of what to do with Lady Jennet, and this happens to be it. Saint Nicholas's Sanctuary for Widows and Orphans is an utterly respectable refuge for Lady Jennet; it's under the Countess of Derry's patronage, and as it happens, my own sister Javana resides there. And given that Lady Jennet has already spent several nights unchaperoned in my company, both when I was fetching her back home from Desse and then on our journey from Levington to here, I fail to see how she can be any more compromised by our traveling to Derry together unescorted."

She gave a mirthless laugh, raising her eyebrows at me. "Oh, I was hardly thinking of _her_ reputation; if she wants to throw that out the window, that's her business. I was more concerned about _yours!"_

"About mine?" I stared back at her, baffled. "Lady Avisa, unless I've somehow gained a reputation as a ravisher of young maidens—which I assure you would be _quite_ undeserved, as I'm very particular about steering clear of untouched damsels in general, and most especially highborn ones—I can't imagine why that would be of any concern!"

The dowager baroness cocked her head at me. "Can you truly not? Oh, well, let's see here….a young and handsome bachelor knight with a reputation for being a lusty sort and who has an illegitimate daughter to prove his misspent youth goes haring across the countryside with a runaway damsel in tow—oh, might I add she's a lovely and nubile young lady who has just recently become fully ripe for marriage?—traveling together _without_ a chaperone or even a protective male escort, and no one in Gwynedd will find _that_ gossip-worthy? No one at _all?"_

I took a deep breath. "Well, I can hardly bring her back to Levington, so if this solution won't suit, then I suppose we'll have to find some sort of compromise. What would _you_ suggest, my lady?"

"I already gave you my two suggestions yesterday," she told me sourly after several moments of thought, frowning at me all the while, "but if you're determined to go against my advice, then at least you'll have the good sense not to go traipsing off with Lady Jennet unescorted." She sighed. "I should be able to make ready for the journey if you can hold off leaving for a few hours."

I tried to make sense of her statement. "Make ready for the journey, my lady?"

"Of course. I shall be accompanying you." The lady's chin rose proudly, brooking no argument. I argued anyway.

"But...my lady...it would hardly be seemly!"

"Oh? So _now_ you're worried about reputations?" She arched a chestnut brow at me.

"Of course I am! You're..." I fumbled for the right words. "You're a respectable widow!"

"Yes, I am, and therefore quite a suitable chaperone for your misguided young maiden."

"But...there'd be the whole trip _back_ from Derry, you realize?" Why the thought of traveling back to Kinlochan alone with the enchanting Lady Avisa filled me with more rising excitement than trepidation, I didn't stop to question. It would be a very bad idea, I was certain.

"Of course there would be. I would hardly expect we'd _all _be moving to Derry permanently!"

"No, what I mean is, who would be _your_ chaperone on the return trip?"

Lady Avisa laughed. "Sir Sextus, you are my steward! It's hardly unknown for a lady to travel accompanied by her male staff; in fact, it's expected. How else am I to have a safe escort along the way?" She dimpled. "There _are_ highwaymen about, you know."

"Well, yes, of course, but I'm not exactly Master Gerard or Master Lars, now am I? I'm...oh, what did you just call me again?...something about young lusty bachelor knights with a reputation..." I felt my cheeks grow hot. "Your senior stewards would hardly approve," I added feebly, sensing my protests were useless.

"Shall I leave Kinlochan's domestic management in your hands, then, while Master Lars brings the demoiselle of Levington to Countess Derry?" The dowager baroness smiled at me as if she had just made the winning move in a cardounet game.

The offer was a tempting one on the surface of it. If I left Lady Jennet in Master Lars's hands, I could get back to the easier, more familiar problems of household management and leave Jennet's ultimate fate to someone else guilt-free. Or could I? No, I'd need to see this through. Kelson had entrusted the damsel into my care, after all, and even if I'd managed to make a complete and total muck-up of the job, it was my mess to clean up after, not Master Lars's.

"Can you be ready by mid-afternoon?" I asked Lady Avisa with a sigh.

"I can. And if you're truly worried about my lack of a chaperone, we can bring Amanda with us."

I goggled at her. "Bring Amanda?"

"Yes. Tiny little thing, dark-haired, amethyst eyes and an insatiable appetite. Amanda, your daughter, otherwise known as 'Grub.'" Avisa smiled beatifically at me. "You told me yourself, there's not a better chaperone to be had than one's own young and quite impressionable daughter. It will be an educational journey for her, and she's old enough now to think it quite the adventure. She's not yet met her Aunt Javana, has she?"

"I…well, no, she hasn't."

I gave up the fight. I knew I had been bested by a master.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

_June 16, 1134_

_The village of Swinford, the Duchy of Haldane, dusk_

"Can't we just stay the night here at an inn?" Lady Jennet said with a wistful sigh as she and Lady Avisa stepped out of their coach to stretch their legs after being cooped up for several long hours of travel. "I'm tired of sleeping in bedrolls, even yours, Sir Sextus."

I willed down a blush, wondering if the maiden knew how damning her last statement had sounded. I had, of course, given her free use of my bedding during our earlier travels together, but I had spent those evenings curled up inside my own cloak for warmth, quite scrupulously keeping to my own side of our shared bonfire in our warded camp-spaces. I risked a quick glance at Lady Avisa's face. She merely cocked an eyebrow at the lady of Levington but said nothing.

"No, I'm afraid it's out of the question," I replied. "There's a convent another five miles down the road, if you'd prefer to spend the night indoors, but an inn is no place for ladies to put up for the night."

"Not unless you're also willing to put ou—" My daughter, seated before me on Murray, glared up at me as I hastily popped my hand over her mouth.

"High Table manners, Grub," I reminded her softly, "with no Fox and Hounds language."

"But we're not at High Table!" she protested as I released her. "And I _didn't_ curse, not once!" Indeed, she hadn't, though the daggers in her eyes spoke volumes about her feelings for the baron's daughter in our company.

Lady Avisa's lips quirked slightly at our quiet exchange. She turned to Lady Jennet. "What Amanda is—perhaps a shade _too_ indelicately—attempting to explain is that we've no assurance of privacy in an inn. Quite likely the rooms are all full up at this time of the evening, so we'd be obliged to share beds with other customers. That's little more than an inconvenience for men traveling alone—at worst, you'd have the nuisance of your bed-partners sharing their lice or snoring too loudly—but for ladies, I trust you can see the impropriety, not to mention the inherent dangers, of bedding down with complete strangers."

"Oh." Lady Jennet frowned in thought. "Well, surely the innkeeper could arrange for us to be in the same room, so we'd not have to sleep with strange men?"

I chuckled. "And sleep four to the bed? I suppose _my_ reputation can't suffer much more harm for it, but yours might."

"Besides," Avisa added, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "we'd still be sleeping with a _very_ strange man. No, I'd say it's best to press on until we reach the convent."

"But then where would Sir Sextus and our men-at-arms sleep?" Jennet batted her lashes at me.

"The convent would have a guest house," I told her. "The Kinlochan guardsmen and I could stay there, and there'd be no problem with you, Lady Avisa and Amanda spending the night in the convent dormitory if they've beds to spare. Or we could simply set up camp, if you'd rather not continue that far tonight. I agree real beds would be more comfortable, but we'd be reaching St. Mary's well after dark if we press on, and the dangers of meeting brigands on the road increase tenfold once the sun has fully set."

"I'm not afraid of brigands," declared Grub. "Six is a _knight!_"

"Yes, but I'm only _one_ knight, and brigands are like wolves, tending to travel in packs."

"We're not as unprotected as all that!" Lady Avisa protested.

It was true enough that she'd had the foresight to ask a few of Kinlochan's men-at-arms along on the journey, but still, a greener lot of soldiers I hadn't seen in some time. The four Kinlochan lads she'd managed to muster at short notice had less battle experience between them than I'd had by the time I was a sixteen-year–old squire newly returned home from the Mearan campaign. Bringing Lady Avisa's men-at-arms along had created a new dilemma for me. I would have preferred the protection of a warded encampment during our sleeping hours, yet I was reluctant to give an open display of magic in front of a company of men whose thoughts regarding Deryni powers I had no knowledge about. Granted, I had used my powers around Lady Jennet when I'd first apprehended her and several times afterwards, but the first occasion had been due to necessity, and once she'd known what I was, there was little point in trying to conceal my powers from her. And Lady Avisa would certainly not have objected; in fact, she might well have welcomed the opportunity to learn from me. But I had no wish to find myself fighting off an attack from one of her earnest young guardsmen, overzealous to protect his dowager baroness from the 'evil Deryni' in their midst and completely unaware that his liege lady was herself Deryni.

No, the protection of her loyal band of men-at-arms, rusty in their fighting skills though they might have been, would have to serve. Should we fall under attack, I'd use my defensive powers—arcane and otherwise—then, and let the dice roll as they would. But hopefully it would not come to that.

_Has Kinlochan no knights or better trained guardsmen than these, my lady?_ I asked Avisa by Mind-Speech, not wishing her lieutenant to overhear.

She looked startled, but replied in kind after a brief moment. _Oh, certainly!—the knights who hold manors for my son among them, of course, and a few others—but I didn't feel the barony could spare them for this journey. _She glanced at me apologetically. _Edgar lost several of his best fighters during the Mearan campaign, I'm afraid, and without more experienced warriors to advise and teach them, the younger men-at-arms who have grown up since then have perhaps received short shrift in their training. Master Gerard gives them opportunities for practice, of course, but not being a fighting man himself, he's not able to supervise their training. Mayhap you can help bring them up to speed once we return to Kinlochan?_

I pondered the matter. _What you really need is a full time master-at-arms to supervise their practice, my lady. I can work with them, if you wish, but there wouldn't be enough hours of the day for me to devote as much time to that as they'd need and still train as one of your stewards. Shall I look into the matter of securing a good master-at-arms for you instead?_

She looked relieved. _Would you, please? Edgar had planned to hire one—he said he'd grown too slow to tend to the matter himself—but after his death, there was so much else to tend to, I hadn't got around to that task yet, and quite honestly, I've no clue what to look for in a good fighting master._

I added it to my mental list of things to do once Lady Jennet was safely settled. Truth be told, having some other matter to ponder besides my three troublesome females was somewhat of a relief.

#

We ended up deciding to make camp while there was still enough light left to leave the main road and scout out a good location for one. I sent two of Lady Avisa's men-at-arms ahead to do just that. They returned shortly, having found a spot close by which they felt to be both suitable and easily accessible by coach, and after inspecting the spot for myself, I agreed. To my surprise, as soon as the rest of our party arrived there, the Kinlochan crew unfastened one of the large bundles affixed to the coach, which I discovered—once it was unwrapped and erected—to be the late Baron's battle pavilion.

Lady Avisa smiled at me. "We might have to rough it, but we won't be _completely_ deprived of creature comforts."

I nodded my approval, walking around the pavilion to inspect it as the Kinlochan men-at-arms secured the last of the support poles in place. It looked to be in good condition still, despite the years of disuse since the Mearan campaign. As I exited the large tent, I saw Lady Avisa commandeering one of the men, directing him to help her unload a smaller bundle and a large wooden chest. Shortly thereafter, carpets were unrolled to provide flooring to keep bedrolls and pallets off the damp earth. A few oddly shaped pieces of wood fit neatly together to create rough yet serviceable stools and a bench, and the large chest, once opened, revealed other shaped wooden boards which, assembled, converted the hinged chest itself into a bedframe and canopy with the Moreau arms carved upon the side of the chest now serving as a headboard. I raised my eyebrows, impressed.

"Edgar ordered it from a master carpenter from Llannedd. He was quite proud of it," the dowager baroness said with a wistful smile. "He hated to see it relegated to storage after his return from Meara, so he had it set up in my bower for a while, with a feather tick spread over the old camp mattress to make it softer." Her fingers deftly wove the ropes through the sides of the bed frame to support the mattress which would lie atop them. "I didn't think the featherbed would travel well, so we shall have to do without tonight."

"It's fine work, my lady," I told her, doing my best not to envision her on it. My tightly shielded mind might have betrayed me nonetheless, as she turned away suddenly, a light color blooming in her cheeks.

"I'll hang an arras down the middle of the pavilion so that you and the rest of the men might have greater privacy." I knew this to mean so she and Lady Jennet, and perhaps Grub as well, could sleep well-shielded from the gazes of the male contingent of our party.

#

It was agreed that the men would take turns on guard duty, two of the men-at-arms staying awake until Lauds, and the other two awakening at that time to take over the guardianship of the campsite until Terce, which had been judged sufficiently early to allow for most of a full day's travel during daylight hours, yet not so early that the guards who had taken the earlier shift would be forced to continue on with insufficient sleep. I had opted to join the first group of men in guarding our site, because I gauged the late night and very early hours to be the most likely time for any assailants to strike, while the darkness of night was at its fullest. Thus it was that I found myself standing guard outside the entrance to our shared pavilion while two of the Kinlochan men patrolled the perimeter, just beyond the area easily seen by the light of our small campfire.

All remained quiet and peaceful for the first hour after the ladies and the second shift of men-at-arms had retired to their rest. A duet of quiet snores assured me that the two men had wasted no time in falling asleep, and on the other side of the arras I sensed two occupants of the camp bed in slumber as well. Of the third, I sensed no sign at first, but then I realized with a start that she was not only wide awake, but standing quite close by.

I turned in time to see a hand pull the flap of fabric covering the pavilion's entrance aside. Lady Jennet peered out, breaking into a bright smile as she spotted me.

"My Lady, is something wrong?" I asked her, my voice pitched low to avoid awakening anyone inside the pavilion or drawing the attention of the guards patrolling the camp's perimeter.

"Wrong?" The lass giggled softly. "No, Sir Sextus, no more so than usual, at any rate." She let the flap fall back into place, moving closer to my side. "I think I've figured out a solution to my problem. But I'd need your help with it."

I was all attention. "What sort of help, my lady?"

The baron's daughter beamed up at me. "It occurred to me that I needn't move all the way to Derry at all."

"That would be fine with me, my lady. I take it then that you've figured out a way to convince your father not to marry you to Lord Odwyn?"

She moved closer with a coy smile, stroking my sleeve. "Well, no, but it occurs to me that there might be a way to convince Lord Odwyn not to accept the offer. What if…well…he were to form the impression that I had become…ah…quite unmarriageable?" She laid her cheek against my chest.

I took a sudden step back, wondering when the night air had turned so hot. "Wait…are you…Lady Jennet, what exactly are you asking from me? Am I supposed to take you back to Levington and claim we've had a dalliance?!" I stared at her in alarm.

"Well, I _was_ alone with you for three whole nights, after all," she purred. "Four, if you include the journey from Desse."

Alarm turned to horror. "Might I remind you, my lady, that on the trip from Desse to your father's hall in Levington, you were more ready to scoop my bowels out with a rusty spoon than consider even feigning a dalliance?"

She laughed. "Oh, I know, but I'm quite over that now!" Emerald eyes smiled up at me through thick lashes. "You're really not so bad, Sir Sextus."

I thought back on the boorish Lord Odwyn, hoping that he wasn't her sole basis for comparison. "I'm really not so good either, my lady."

Lady Jennet dimpled up at me. "I imagine some women might beg to differ." She moved closer, nearly backing me into the pavilion wall. "I know I'm going to have to give myself up to a man; there's no help for it. Given a choice, I'd much rather that man be you rather than Lord Odwyn. Don't you want me?" She allowed her cloak to slip off one shoulder, revealing a glimpse of creamy skin veiled only by filmy cambric.

"I…um…." How by all the archdemons of hell did I get myself into this fix? Certainly my body was up for the idea, but contrary to Lady Avisa's expectations of me, I _do_ occasionally use the head upon my shoulders for something more than a hood warmer, and _that_ head was urging me to flee for my life and livelihood.

"Lady Jennet, did you get lost looking for the cesspit?" Lady Avisa stood just at the pavilion entrance looking out at us, her smile glacial. "Come, dear, let me walk you out to it. You shouldn't wander out unattended, and my steward has other duties to attend to."

"Yes, I…ah…should get right back to those," I affirmed, edging away. _Thank you_, I added silently to the dowager baroness. She drew Lady Jennet away towards the sheltered cesspit we'd dug at the periphery of the camp, not deigning to reply. I was thankful the pit was shallow, dug just deep enough to serve for a single evening's use. I hated to think my night's duties might end with me having to haul a baron's wayward daughter out of a camp necessarium.

#

_June 18_

_Millford-on-Molling, Duchy of Haldane_

I studied the map I had brought with me, for we were close to the Lendour Mountains now, and I had a decision to make. We could remain on the north side of the river Molling, veering north slightly at river's end to travel through the mountain pass just south of St. Foillan's until we reached the plains beyond, then travel southeastwards through Lendour towards Corwyn until we reached the Earldom of Derry. Or we could cross the Molling at this point and head southeast towards Dhassa, and from there continue on towards Derry on a more southerly route.

I had reasons to wish to avoid the latter option, my uncle Denis, the Bishop of Dhassa, being foremost among them. Yet I knew that if I avoided seeing him now, I would only be forced to do so later, for once I saw my sister Javana at Countess Celsie's sanctuary, she was nearly certain to inform our uncle of my visit and the reason for it. And he would doubtless guess that I had avoided him on purpose, for while the more northern pass was currently the closer means of traveling through the Lendour Mountains, it would take an extra day's travel to reach Derry once we were beyond them if we took that route.

No, there was no help for it. If I had to encounter Denis sooner or later, I would rather opt for sooner and get it out of the way. Besides, he was less likely to come down hard on me in front of a rapt audience. And, the welcome thought suddenly occurred to me, Dhassa had a Transfer Portal. Perhaps the final leg of the journey could be made even shorter if I didn't have to travel the entire way with a coach and horses and a party of seven others. Denis had visited Javana at the Sanctuary on several occasions, I knew, and he'd used his private Portal in Dhassa to get there, so it stood to reason there had to be another Portal somewhere close by Countess Celsie's Sanctuary, if not actually on the premises. And what Denis knew, he might be persuaded to share, given the right incentive. I was willing to bet that half a day in Lady Jennet's company would prove to be a compelling enough incentive. If naught else, I could throw myself upon his mercy and claim the lady had offered me inducements to sin, and that I needed swift and sure deliverance. It would, after all, be the absolute gospel truth.

#

_June 20_

_Bishop's Palace, The City of Dhassa_

"You've done _what?_" The Bishop of Dhassa looked at me as if I'd lost my senses completely. Given that this had been the most common reaction to my stated mission over the past few days, I was beginning to believe that maybe I had.

"Well, it seemed to be a good idea at the time," I muttered defensively. "Especially after...well, _you _know...Javana's disaster of a marriage..."

Denis buried his face in his hands. "Sextus, this is quite entirely a different sort of matter, and you know it! For one thing, the chit isn't even formally betrothed yet! There were plenty of possible solutions to her problem that don't involve abduction."

"Well, technically I didn't abduct her. She came willingly, you realize."

My uncle rolled his eyes. "She can't give legal consent to her own abduction, you idiot. She's a maiden, under her father's authority. She may have the legal right to grant consent to her own betrothal or to withhold it, but I assure you she has no leg to stand on when it comes to removing herself from her father's authority altogether, unless there are extenuating circumstances for removing her from his guardianship. Something far more compelling than his wish to give her to a legally eligible husband, that is. Has he tried to kill her?"

I gaped at him. "Well, no..."

"Has he forced her into his own bed?"

"Has he...? Hell, no!" I stared at him in shock.

His jaw tightened. "Don't look so astonished. It happens, unfortunately. So, has he done aught improper towards his child aside from selecting a husband of dubious quality for her? Tortured her, perhaps? Willfully starved her? Beaten her with a rod thicker than his thumb? Allowed Lord Odwyn to rape her in an effort to coerce her consent to the marriage?"

My stomach churned at the thought. "No, none of that."

"Then on what grounds do you expect Countess Celsie to grant her asylum? The lady is neither a widow nor an orphan, nor does she appear to have any other extenuating circumstance which might allow for her admission to the Countess's sanctuary. Unless…." Denis steepled his fingers, lost in thought. "The Saint Nicholas Sanctuary for Widows and Orphans is adjacent to the Sisters of Saint Mary Magdalene convent and works quite closely with it. I don't suppose your young baggage has any vocation to the religious life?"

I thought of her seduction attempt four evenings previously and stifled a laugh. "I rather doubt it, but at this point she might actually be that desperate."

The bishop glared at me in reproof. "A _genuine_ calling, Sextus."

I shook my head. "She doesn't strike me as particularly pious, nor do I think she has an aversion to the idea of marriage in general, just an aversion to _this_." I sent him my mental impressions of Lord Odwyn.

Denis blanched. "Jesú! I can hardly blame her. Compared to _him_, you're a model of deportment." I suppressed a grin at the dubious compliment. Coming from Denis, it could almost pass for high praise. He sighed. "Your sympathy is understandable, Sextus, but if Lord Garulf of Levington finds _that_ to be a suitable mate for his daughter, I'm afraid there's little we can do. Did you even attempt to persuade him otherwise?"

"Attempt to persuade him that his best hunting buddy would make a poor choice of son-in-law?" I countered skeptically. "What do you suppose my chances of convincing him would have been?"

He raised an eyebrow at me. "You're Deryni, aren't you?"

I gaped at my bishop uncle. "Are you suggesting I should have planted a suggestion or tampered with his mind? Isn't that unethical?"

He snorted. "As if that's ever stopped you before."

#

_June 21_

_Bishop's Palace, The City of Dhassa_

Denis remained unconvinced that bringing Lady Jennet to Countess Celsie's sanctuary was likely to serve any useful purpose. However, as I'd already come this far, and with my daughter in tow, he could hardly see refusing to help us along the final leg of the journey. After all, it had been nearly a year since I'd last seen my sister, and she'd not met her eldest yet newest niece yet, although I knew Seisyll had sent her a letter informing her of Grub's existence shortly after I'd brought my daughter home to Tre-Arilan. God only knew what Seisyll had said in that letter, and what impressions Javana might have formed from it, but completely aside from my hopes of unloading Lady Jennet into the Countess's keeping, I was hoping to spend at least a few minutes with my eldest sister. Why, I wasn't sure. Javana and I had never been especially close; I had always had a better relationship with our sister Jashana. But Javana's unhappy marriage had estranged her from the rest of the family for far too long, and I hoped that enough time and healing had taken place for that breach to be mended.

Thus it was that I was able to win our uncle's grudging offer to escort myself and some of my party along the rest of our journey to Countess Celsie's Sanctuary. He went ahead, leaving shortly after breakfast to ensure that Countess Celsie was apprised of our imminent arrival and that our party would be welcome. Half an hour later, he returned, a surprised and somewhat unsettled look on his face. "Countess Celsie has graciously given her consent for me to bring you through her private Transfer Portal. She says she would be delighted to grant you an audience."

"Wonderful!" I studied Denis's bemused expression. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing," he said rather absently. "It's just...when I mentioned that it was you making the inquiry, she burst into laughter. It took her several minutes to compose herself." His gaze focused on my quizzically. "Have you a previous acquaintance with the Countess of Derry?"

I was equally puzzled. "Just barely. I remember when she first came to Rhemuth, before Seisyll called me back to Tre-Arilan to tend to the day-to-day matters there so he could be at the King's full disposal during Christmas Court that year, and I've spotted her a few times at Court since her marriage to Derry, though mostly from a distance. Sophie knows her far better than I do; they served as ladies-in-waiting in the same household. Did she mention why she finds my visit so amusing?"

He shook his head. "Nary a hint."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

_June 21, 1134_

_The St. Nicholas Sanctuary for Women and Orphans, the Earldom of Derry_

The Countess of Derry's celestial blue eyes still held an amused gleam as I dropped to one knee before her to bestow a courtly kiss of greeting over her hand. My uncle Denis had brought me through her private Portal a half hour earlier, allowing me to linger—with the Countess's permission, of course—long enough to read that Portal's unique signature so I could easily return there again without his assistance, then we'd both returned to Dhassa briefly in order to bring both ladies through, not to mention Grub. There was no reason for Lady Avisa to accompany us, strictly speaking. In fact, I had urged her to remain behind with her men-at-arms. But she was adamant, insisting she'd offered to serve as our chaperone as far as Derry and so she would. The men-at-arms we left behind, not only because the additional trips through the Portal to bring them all through would have been quite draining for myself and Denis, but also because—given the nature of the sanctuary the Countess was providing to the women in her charge, and also the traumatic situations some of those women had fled from—the Countess had requested that we leave behind any men whose presence was not strictly necessary. Earlier in the morning, the bishop had given the Kinlochan men the freedom of the city, and Lady Avisa had urged them to take the opportunity to tour the historic sights of Dhassa and make their pilgrimages to its famous shrine if they so desired, for she had a matter of business to tend to with the bishop that day and would not be requiring their services. Denis gave the men his utmost assurances that a baronial guard would not be needed while their lady was in his company, and that he would attend to the dowager baroness's safety personally, so they gave in to their lady's wishes, albeit reluctantly. They could hardly argue that the Bishop of Dhassa was no fit chaperone and protector for a noblewoman, after all.

Now the ladies and the bishop all waited in a small antechamber outside the Countess's withdrawing room. I had been called into Countess Celsie's presence for a private audience.

I straightened, glancing up at the golden-haired woman who stood before me, her hand graciously extended to receive my obeisance. From this close, the lady was far more stunning that I remembered her being in the days when she'd graced Rhemuth's Court with her maidenly presence, despite being eight years older now and the mother of four children in such startlingly rapid succession that all of Court was abuzz at how Earl Derry seemed to be attempting to make up for lost time in the siring of his heir and spares. She was heartstopping, even. For the first time, I realized that the Earl of Derry's decision to give up his wenching ways and enter into respectable matrimony might not have been simply a matter of practicality and the need to beget heirs. Even if it were, he certainly couldn't be suffering too greatly.

She arched an eyebrow at me, a quiet laugh bubbling up. "Are you quite done staring, Sir Sextus? If you are, I believe you've some business for my attention."

It was probably a good thing I've never been an especially poetic sort. It would be a bad end to my journey if the Earl of Derry had to skewer me on swordpoint for babbling smitten sonnets to his wife. I pulled my thoughts together and focused on the matter at hand.

"Ah...yes...about that." I glanced away from Derry's delectable Countess briefly so I could clear the fog from my brain. "How...how much did Denis tell you already?"

A smile still lurked at the corners of her lips, although the rest of her expressive features composed themselves into a more serious expression. "I'm given to understand that you are in hopes I can provide sanctuary for a certain young demoiselle among your party. Is that correct?"

"It is, my lady."

"And it is also my understanding that the lady in question is neither widowed nor orphaned, nor is she a ward of the Crown being commended into my care, nor has her rightful liegelord given her leave to depart from his demesne to seek asylum elsewhere." She tilted her head at me. "I do wish I could help you, Sir Sextus, since you've honored me with your trust and have come so far out of your way to seek my aid, but unless there are extenuating circumstances that I am as yet unaware of, I'm not certain that I can. Can you share with me why you felt it necessary to bring her to me?"

I felt my heart sink. I suspected the outcome of this audience would be exactly what Lady Avisa and my uncle had warned me it would be, yet for Lady Jennet's sake I felt I needed to plead her case one last time. God only knows why it seemed so important for me to do so. It certainly wasn't because I'd grown fond of the chit.

"My lady, my sister-by-marriage Sophie once mentioned to me that some years ago, well before your marriage to Earl Derry, you were quite nearly forced into a marriage which was not merely against your liking, but which was insupportable in any way. She is of the mind that such an experience, in addition to your natural caring and compassionate nature, led you to create this sanctuary through which other damsels in like distress might be able to escape similar misfortunes. My lady, I believe Lady Jennet to be in similarly dire straits."

The countess's lips twitched. "In other words, sir, you believed me to be a soft touch." Her smile grew as I floundered for an appropriate response. "Oh, don't worry; I'm not insulted; I _am _quite tender-hearted. Derry, poor dear, sometimes despairs at how many strays I manage to collect, and he knew going into this venture with me that I _would_, you know, and that he'd be dragged along, sometimes kicking and screaming and having to be my voice of sanity. However, I'm afraid one hard lesson I've had to learn along the way is that, as much as I'd love to, I can't rescue everybody, so I've had to learn to devote my time and energies to those who are in most urgent need of assistance." She folded her hands before her, giving me an encouraging smile. "So. How does Lady Jennet especially qualify for my assistance?"

There was no help for it. I had no recourse but to tell her the truth. "She doesn't." At her questioning look, I continued on, my voice rushing through the words in hopes of getting them all out before I was summarily dismissed for wasting her valuable time. "It's just that her father has offered her to a most odious man against her wishes, and the match is so disagreeable to her that she would do anything to avoid it." My cheeks grew hot as I thought of the lady's most recent ploy to avoid being given in marriage. "And pardon my indelicacy, but I _do_ mean anything. If I bring her back to Levington now, she'll only run off again, and like as not I'll be sent to fetch her back—assuming I'm even still in the King's employ after this debacle—and I simply _can't_, my lady. Not now that I know what it is I'd be returning her to. What her father intends for her might be fully legal, but it isn't _right._ Yet, if I don't..." I waved my hand, feeling helpless. "Leaving aside for the moment the likely consequences for me were I to disobey a direct order from the King, you know what _her_ chances would be on her own, living on the streets. She'd be like a lamb to the slaughter. She thinks she can make it on her own, but she can't. Not for long, not by any honorable means, anyway. That might not matter so much to her right now, as determined as she is to avoid this match, but...for some reason it matters to _me_."

She nodded, her voice going soft with understanding. "It matters to you, I suspect, because underneath that roguish mask you wear so charmingly, not to mention that impulsive nature that has doubtless led you into this predicament, deep down you're still a man of honor yourself, in your own way. Aren't you?" Her eyes twinkled knowingly at me. "Go ahead and confess, Sir Sextus, I assure you I won't give up your guilty secret." Her voice lowered, forcing me to lean forward to hear her. "You, my lord, are a soft touch as well." She held her hand palm up before me. "Show me what you know of Lady Jennet's suitor," she requested quietly.

I lay my hand upon hers, opening my mind to her enough to share my impressions of Lord Odwyn. The link took mere seconds. As I drew my hand away, she wrinkled her nose and gave me a slight moue of distaste. "Ew. I'd have run too." She sighed.

My hopes rose. "Then you'll shelter her?"

Countess Celsie gave me a sympathetic smile. "I didn't say that. I'm still collecting all the facts of the matter. But I'll hear the lady's side now, if you please. Would you call her in?"

#

Lady Jennet stood before the Countess, her eyes wary yet hopeful. Behind her stood Lady Avisa. She had not been specifically invited, yet when I'd gone to the door to usher the heiress of Levington in, the dowager baroness had made it quite clear with a stern glance at me that she was not about to relax in her duties as a chaperone now, even though we'd already reached our destination. And, of course, with the lady of Kinlochan had come Grub, her small hand in Lady Avisa's protective grasp. The three had come practically pouring into the room as soon as I'd opened the door, leaving me to wonder if they'd spent the past few minutes with their ears pressed against it. Denis, scurrying in behind the three determined young females in hopes of herding at least two of them back towards the antechamber, found himself stopped by the Countess herself, who gave him a slight shake of her head and a reassuring smile. "Oh, let them stay, my lord bishop. They've all come rather a long way; they might as well all be here for the outcome." Her clear blue eyes swept the small chamber, lighting at last on my daughter. A slight frown shadowed her face. "On second thought, how old are you, dear?"

Grub, after a startled pause once she realized the last sentence was addressed directly to her, bobbed a deep curtsey and answered with an uncertain glance at me. "I'm not sure, my lady."

I gave her a reassuring smile. "Amanda is seven, Lady Celsie. She'll be eight in October, at my best guess."

"Ah. So this is your daughter then, Sir Sextus?" The countess smiled at me. "She's adorable. I think I see something of Javana in her."

I smiled proudly, struggling not to laugh as I caught Grub's expression. Her appearance and manners had greatly improved in the few months since she'd come into my keeping, but still, 'adorable' seemed a bit of a stretch, and my daughter was hardly so dimwitted as to be unaware of that. Yet there was no hint of sarcasm or condescension in the countess's voice, and after the first moment of surprise, Grub blushed with embarrassed pleasure.

"My lord bishop, perhaps you could escort your grand-niece to the sanctuary grounds to meet her Aunt Javana? There are matters I need to discuss with Lady Jennet that I'm afraid are quite likely to stray into territory quite unsuitable for a child of such tender years to hear. I still require Sir Sextus's presence here, but he shall be free to join you both shortly."

Denis looked equal parts startled and curious, not to mention crestfallen that he was to be left out of what promised to be a most interesting audience. For my part, I was glad the nosy busybody had been sent off on an errand he could hardly find any logical reason to argue against. Grub looked less than elated to be dragged away, though a reassuring smile from Countess Celsie perked her back up again, especially once our hostess promised she'd have a platter of sweetmeats sent up directly.

Once the door had closed behind my uncle and my daughter, the countess waved towards a nearby bench, indicating that the ladies should sit. She waited until they had made themselves comfortable before saying, "Lady Jennet, I should like to hear your story in your own words, please."

The maiden gave me a nervous look, then took up the tale, telling Countess Celsie of her father's longstanding friendship with Lord Odwyn, a neighboring lord who owned a manor and good hunting grounds adjacent to Levington. Lord Odwyn had been heretofore unsuccessful in the wooing of a bride, and to her horror, her father had offered him her hand in marriage in hopes that the Odwyn lands could be consolidated into the baronial holdings in their heir's generation. Jennet, upon a closer acquaintance with the man her father had selected to become her husband, had pleaded with her father not to pursue the match, but Lord Garulf had remained adamant, so in desperation she had run away, seizing upon her family steward's stories of his childhood in Desse for inspiration as to how she might support herself. She had felt sure that becoming a barmaid could not be such a difficult life, had been certain her father would never think to look for her in a tavern, and while she'd realized her earnings would not keep her in the manner in which she'd grown accustomed as a noblewoman, they would at least keep her out of Lord Odwyn's hands long enough for her to come up with some better solution. And that had been the extent of her planning at the point in which I had happened upon her.

The story continued on, covering ground which I was already familiar with. My attention was divided by the sight of a quiet young woman standing in the corner of the room, dressed in clothing that was modest in both cut and quality. I wondered how long she had been there—had she just newly entered, slipping in by the rear door, or had she been there all along? I doubted she had; I'd surely have sensed her presence before that point if she'd been there earlier. The entrance close behind her was curtained, so she could easily have slipped into the room while the Levington heiress was still speaking. As if noticing the direction of my gaze, Countess Celsie glanced in the direction of the newcomer and smiled gently, extending a hand of welcome. The woman bobbed a curtsey that was properly deferential yet not in the least bit nervous or obsequious, despite the apparent differences between her own rank and that of the noblewoman seated at the head of the chamber. I guessed her to be one of the residents of the countess's sanctuary, and therefore on a more familiar basis with the noblewoman than her apparent rank might indicate. As Lady Jennet wound up her story, the countess acknowledged the newcomer with a bow of her head, but said nothing to her immediately. Instead, she turned back towards Lady Jennet. "I see. So, nothing could possibly induce you to return to your father's hall? Do you not miss him?"

Lady Jennet hesitated briefly. "I do, my lady," she said reluctantly, "but as long as he persists in his demand that I marry Lord Odwyn, I can see no help for it. I love my lord father, despite his flaws and blind spots, but_ he's_ not the one who has to wed and bed that...that _lout_ he's picked out for me! I would rather take my chances living on my own in the world than live with _that!_"

"Ah, which leads nicely into this introduction, ladies." Countess Celsie turned towards the new arrival. "Thank you for coming, Mistress Minerva. Would you be so kind as to explain to those present the circumstances which led you to apply for shelter within our sanctuary?" She turned her gaze to Lady Jennet. "I think you might find Mistress Min's story most informative. In some few respects, it's quite similar to yours."

Jennet's emerald eyes flew to Mistress Min's face in curiosity. Mistress Min, in turn, bobbed her a brisk curtsey and stepped forward, the motion drawing her closer to the firelight so she could be seen more clearly. For the first time I noticed the scarring on the left side of her face, which marred otherwise pretty features. "I run off from me da and me home, all right," she told us, "seeking t' escape a marriage t' a man I didna want. He were a bad sort, with a mean temper and th' village gossips said he kilt his first wife, but me da was in his debt and he promised t' forgive it if he could wed with me, so me da had th' banns posted. So I run off, thought t' make me own way in th' world. I could sew a fine seam, and I figured t' be a sempstress."

Lady Jennet's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "So, what happened? That sounds like a good choice."

Mistress Min shook her head. "Nay. I didna have enough coin t' pay for room and board t' start out, and without room and board, much less th' supplies I'd need, I couldna set up me own shop. I was nearly out o' coin and trying t' figure out what t' do, when a woman offered me a room. She said if I'd work for her, she'd take care o' me right and proper."

"Then all worked out well for you in the end?" Jennet's face lit up.

"Nay. She were a panderer, that 'un. She pretended t' be me friend, and she give me honest work and a bed t' sleep in right enough, but one night she brought up a man..." Her gaze flitted towards me. "Twice as big as that 'un, he were, strong and brutal. And then I learnt th' hard way what sort o' work she had in mind for me."

Jennet's eyes widened in horror as she took in the woman's meaning. "But you fought him, didn't you?"

"Aye, I fought and screeched like ennathing, but it were o' no use. He had his orders t' break me will, and eventually he did. I didna have any fight left, save t' survive."

"But..." The maiden stared at Countess Celsie in confusion, then back at Mistress Min. "You managed to run away again. Or you'd not be here now."

"Aye, I did. A year later, and countless men, I managed t' slip out one night when th' madam forgot t' lock me door once th' last man o' th' evening left." She shrugged. "Course, I were free, but still had no more than I did when I started. Less, in fact, just th' clothes on me back."

"So you came here?" Lady Avisa asked quietly, her expression a mixture of horror and compassion.

Mistress Min's gaze moved to meet hers. 'No, m'lady. I didna know about this shelter then. I made for a port town, and..." She shrugged. "I was still pretty enough t' attract th' sailors an' dock workers in th' only way I knew how by then. But at least that time th' money was me own. I was able t' get by well enough for another two years, though I was nearly killed a time or two." She glanced at me. "Some men can be nasty, violent sorts if they're drunk or cross, begging yer pardon for saying so, sir. And some have twisted notions o' pleasure."

I glanced down at my feet uncomfortably. She had no need to beg _my_ pardon; if anything, I felt a sudden unaccountable need to beg for hers. "Some men are rotters," I mumbled.

"Aye." She favored me with a fleeting smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, then turned back to Lady Jennet. "I worked all night and sometimes in th' day just t' earn enough t' stay alive and buy me daily needs. Sometimes I thought o' going home and seeing if me da would take me back, but I knew he wouldna. Sometimes I thought if I'd just married that mean old man who'd wanted me in th' first place, at least mayhap I coulda fought back or run off after we was wed. Th' whole town knew what he were like; someone might have took me in. He were thrice me age, he might coulda died, and then I'd be a respectable widow, free to marry a man o' me own choice or none at all. I dinna know... I keep going through it in me head, wondering if I coulda done something different. I thought t' save meself from a bad situation, but I only found meself a worse one." She sighed. "At least he were only _one_ man wanting t' use me, not th' whole damn randy lot. Begging yer pardon, sir."

"What happened to your face, if I might ask?" Lady Avisa asked softly, raising a hand to trace her own cheek.

Mistress Min raised her hand to the scarred cheek in question. "A jealous laundry woman found her husband with me and tossed a pot o' lye at me head. Ruined me livelihood, it did. Near blinded me in that eye, and even after me skin healed, I had t' lower me rates t' attract custom. They'll pay more for pretty lasses, y'see. I tried me hand at begging, then, and offering quick trysts in dark alleys—whatever would keep me alive."

"How did you end up here?" Lady Jennet asked, looking shocked and subdued.

Mistress Min smiled at the countess, who returned it with a gentle smile of her own. "Th' Earl o' Derry found me. I was on th' street corner begging as he passed by, asked if he had a farthing or two t' spare." She blushed slightly. "I may have offered him a quick fumble in th' alley, but he said he weren't needing that sort o' service from me. He asked me about th' scar, and I told him how I got it, and he asked a few more questions then said he thought his wife would like t' meet me. O' course, I didna believe that for a moment. I figured he were up t' no good. But th' next morning up she rides, with one o' th' other house-sisters alongside her, and they offered t' take me in and teach me another trade here in Derry at th' Saint Nicholas Sanctuary. I still didna believe they were up t' no good, but I figured even if they locked me up and forced me t' whore for them like me former madam did, at least I'd have a roof over me head and a steady meal or two every day." She grinned at the countess. "O' course, I was glad t' be mistaken about their intentions."

Countess Celsie turned towards Lady Jennet. "My dear, these are the sorts of stories I hear regularly at my mission. My sanctuary is meant for those women who truly have no safe place left to go, and who need assistance in restoring their lives. Are you _quite_ certain that you qualify?"  
Lady Jennet's gaze dropped, her eyes filling with tears. "Maybe not, my lady, but I don't know what else to do. I have nowhere else to go, and I _won't _marry Lord Odwyn!" She stared around the room wildly, her eyes fixing on mine. "In fact, I can't! I'm betrothed to _him!_" she exclaimed, pointing to me.

My jaw dropped. "I beg your pardon?" This was a turn of events I hadn't anticipated. "When did _that_ happen?!"

The maiden's chin tilted up as she gave me a look of challenge. "Oh, you remember, darling. You weren't _that_ drunk!"

I glanced at Countess Celsie in dismay, knowing it was my word against Lady Jennet's. The Countess was Deryni, though; had she been Truth-Reading as Jennet spoke? Was there some way I could signal her to do so now?

Lady Avisa gave an unladylike snort, capturing everyone's attention. "I'm afraid you're mistaken, Lady Jennet. Whatever Sir Sextus may or may not have said to you while he was under the influence, you must certainly have misunderstood." Her eyes met mine. "You see, Jennet, I made Sir Sextus an offer back in May, a full month before you ever met him. And he gave me his acceptance." She gave the demoiselle a feral smile. "He can hardly keep _both_ of us. A nice effort, though."

I stared at the dowager baroness. It was true enough that she'd made me an offer in May and that I had accepted it, but it had been her offer of a position as her steward! But it dawned on me that Lady Jennet didn't know that. Granted, if the countess was Truth-Reading us, all she'd know was that Lady Avisa had just spoken truth and that Lady Jennet had lied. But I'd remain a free man, which was all that mattered to me at the moment.

Feeling a bit lightheaded, I grinned back at my employer. "Yes, Lady Jennet, Lady Avisa is quite right. I did accept her offer back in May. The sixth of May, to be exact." As I spoke, I sensed the countess's mind brush against mine. As I'd suspected, she was using her powers to discern the truth of what we were telling her now that we'd presented her with conflicting accounts.

"But..." The maiden looked betrayed. "I thought you were just her steward. You never once mentioned you were betrothed to her!"

I raised my eyebrows at her. "My lady, I'm sorry, but you never asked!"

Jennet's eyes filled with tears as she turned back to our hostess. "Please, my lady, I can't go back! I don't care what I have to do to stay, but I just _can't_ marry Lord Odwyn!" She threw herself at Countess Celsie's feet, weeping.

"Then don't." The countess chuckled at Jennet's incredulous look as the maiden's face jerked up to stare at her. "I'm sure your father didn't mention it—it would hardly have served his purpose, after all—but a coerced marriage isn't binding in the eyes of the Church. All you need do is refuse to agree to the betrothal contract. Or, if it's too late to avoid the betrothal, then you can at least refuse to exchange marriage vows. A betrothal is binding, alas, but if not followed by marriage within a reasonable span of time, it can generally be nullified later on the grounds of breach of contract, if you're willing to wait a few years. Granted, you wouldn't be able to accept any other offers until you're released from your betrothal vows, but at least you wouldn't be wed against your will. Were you betrothed to Lord Odwyn?"

Lady Jennet shook her head slowly, looking stunned. "No, not yet." She whirled to face me. "You mean to say all I ever had to do was tell the bloody bugger 'No?'" she stormed.

"I...Yes, I suppose so," I stammered, wondering why she was directing that fury at _me_. I'd figured she'd known that all along.

"You snuck me out of my father's castle in the middle of the night, took me to the woman you're _betrothed_ to, dragged me most of the way across the kingdom and let me throw myself at you without _ever _telling me you belonged to someone else, and all I had to do was say _NO_ to Lord Odwyn?!" she screamed.

My cheeks turned hot. "I didn't...it's not like I ever _asked_ you to offer yourself to me...and I never took you up on it…." If looks could kill, I'd have been dead twice over.

The countess stifled what might have been a laugh. "Lady Jennet, if your father were to have a change of heart, would you be willing to return home with him?"

"Well..." Jennet looked baffled. "Yes, my lady, I would, but I doubt he ever will."

Countess Celsie gave her a cryptic smile. "You might be surprised." She glanced at Mistress Min, who curtseyed and walked towards the curtained door, parting the curtain to beckon to someone in the room beyond.. A moment later, a man stepped through, bowing towards the countess. His eyes sought out Lady Jennet, and upon spotting her, gave her a tentative smile.

I stared at him in shock. It was Lord Garulf of Levington, Jennet's father.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

_June 21, 1134_

_The St. Nicholas Sanctuary for Women and Orphans, the Earldom of Derry_

"What is _he _doing here?" Lady Jennet stared at her father in shock.

"Looking for you, dear." Countess Celsie gave the baron of Levington a polite nod before turning back towards his daughter. "Your father arrived at my door yesterday evening. Apparently, when you ran away from him that second time, he sent directly to the King in Rhemuth in hopes of securing Sir Sextus's services to find you and bring you back once again. Of course, since the two of you never stopped in Rhemuth on your flight from Levington to Kinlochan, Kelson told the messenger to seek Sir Sextus out in Kinlochan instead. He, of course, had no knowledge that you were still in Sir Sextus's keeping." She glanced briefly at me. "At least I don't think he knows that yet. As far as anyone knew at that point, Lady Jennet had simply escaped her chambers and run off again, and your departure that same morning was purely coincidental. Wasn't that the case, Lord Garulf?"

The baron of Levington studied me with a jaundiced eye. "Yes, my lady. But once my messenger returned stating that Sir Sextus was nowhere to be found in Rhemuth, I grew suspicious, for one of my guards had told me Sir Sextus had received a message that morning with an urgent summons back to Rhemuth on King's business. Since the King said nothing to my messenger of this, I began to suspect some sort of ruse, so I rode directly to Kinlochan to confront him." He glared at me before continuing his story. "I got there not long after his departure. I was told by one of the stewards that Sir Sextus had ridden to Desse in the company of the dowager baroness of Kinlochan and a fair young maiden whose description matched my daughter's. After inquiring further, I was told that their party was hoping for an audience with you...something about seeking sanctuary. So I made haste to intercept them."

"And riding unencumbered by a large party and the need to draw a coach and carry a lot of baggage, you made better time in your journey?"

"Indeed, my lady." He glanced at his daughter. "And I'd like my daughter back now, if you please."

"Of course, my lord. I have no grounds to prevent her from returning to her legal liegelord. But if I might ask, what have you to say about her objections to marrying Lord Odwyn? You realize that, when it comes down to it, you can't actually force her to the match, or she _will_ have grounds to seek sanctuary if she's coerced into a marriage against her will?" She glanced at Jennet. "Though not here, dear; I'd suggest a convent for the purpose, and it would be best if you're willing to at least consider taking holy vows." She turned back towards the baron, her expression expectant.

Lord Garulf shuffled his feet, looking sheepish. "Truth be told, my lady, I've had a falling out with Lord Odwyn. I suppose I don't mind giving Jennet her head in this; I've decided Lord Odwyn won't suit after all."

Jennet looked shocked. "You've fallen out? Why?"

Her father shrugged. "Odwyn got all in a huff when I said I was going after you, sweeting. Said it was decent weather for a hunt, and he didn't see the need to go haring off after some wayward wench when we could be out snaring hares instead." Lord Garulf favored his daughter with a lopsided smile. "It _was_ good hunting weather, but you're a bit more dear to me than a brace of coneys. And you might be a wayward wench, but you're _my _wayward wench!" He studied his daughter thoughtfully. "What would you say to marrying Lord Benedict instead? He's in need of a wife as well, and his lands are convenient enough to Levington. Not so close as Lord Odwyn's, but close enough."

"Lord Benedict?!" Lady Jennet made a small moue, then shrugged. "Well, I suppose he's not _that_ bad, and at least he knows what a handkerchief is for. But...he's a bit old, isn't he?"

Her father chuckled. "No, lass, I meant Benedict the Younger, not his father. He's not old at all, maybe around Sir Sextus's age, and while he ain't as much of a pretty-boy, I don't reckon he's _too_ hard to look at, though I'm hardly the best judge of that sort of thing. And he's said to be a patient, steady sort. Hopefully he's got a fair bit more sense than Sir Sextus." Lord Garulf shot me another killing look. I held my tongue, deciding silence was my ally.

#

The audience was over. Father and daughter were escorted into a nearby chamber to continue their reunion in private. Countess Celsie rose, walking up to me and patting my cheek. "You poor dear," she said, an undercurrent of laughter in her voice. "Aren't you glad that's over?"

"You have no idea!" I murmured feelingly.

She turned to Lady Avisa with a curious smile. "If I might ask,_ are_ you actually betrothed to Sir Sextus, or was that merely a ruse? You seemed to be stating the truth earlier, but then again, from all I've heard about Sir Sextus from his sister-in-law, hearing he'd accepted your offer was rather surprising..."

Avisa gave me a wry smile. "Sweet Jesú, no, my lady, it wasn't _that _sort of offer. I'd hate to see him gnaw his own leg off just to escape my leg-shackles."

Celsie laughed out loud. "I thought as much." She turned her winsome smile up at me. "Really, Sir Sextus, you're far too much like my Derry. Marriage truly won't kill you, you know. Not if it's to the right woman."

"I suppose not," I answered noncommittally, bowing over her hand. "Hasn't killed my brother yet, at any rate. Though Lady Sophie is a rare treasure."

"Indeed she is. Do tell my heart-sister to visit when she can. I'm dying to catch up on recent events, but my children and my work here keep me from returning to Rhemuth very often. Are you ready to visit your sister Javana now?"

"I'd like that, my lady."

She glanced over at Mistress Minerva. "Mistress Min will show you where to find her."

#

"So there was your Uncle Seisyll, perched precariously on the roof of our manor house, inching his way across to rescue that dratted cat, when what do you suppose your father did?"

Grub giggled at her aunt. "Moved the ladder?"

I peeked into the chamber. Javana grinned down at Grub's upturned face as Denis, seated behind her, slowly shook his head in remembrance of the event. To my surprise, he had a faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"You _are_ his daughter, aren't you? Yes, he stole that ladder away, and at first no one knew where he'd gone off to with it. Seisyll, of course, didn't notice that at first, he was so busy edging his way towards the cat, but then with a startled hiss that cat leaped straight through the air..." Javana's hand sketched an arc in front of her watching audience. "And she landed on the nearest branch of that same tree that she'd climbed up to get there in the first place."

"And she got back down on her own?"

Javana snorted. "Well, you didn't see a cat skeleton up in a tree while you were at Tre-Arilan, did you?"

Grub giggled. "No, my lady."

"That's because cats are smarter than men." Javana glanced at Denis, who returned her wry smile with a chuckle of his own.

"So how did Uncle Seisyll get down from the roof?" Grub asked them. "Did he climb down the tree too?"

"Oh, no," Denis told her, taking up the story. "The closest branches were far too small to support even a young boy's weight, and Seisyll was quite close to manhood by then. He had to wait for the ladder to be returned."

She giggled. "When did Six return the ladder?"

Denis rolled his eyes. "He didn't. _I_ did...after giving him quite a thrashing for borrowing it without permission. He'd needed it to steal apples from the manor orchard, you see."

"And it wasn't even harvest time yet," Javana added. "So in addition to a sore bottom, he had quite a sore stomach afterwards from eating green apples."

"That was stupid," Grub remarked.

"I return to my original statement about cats," Javana joked, noticing me standing in her doorway for the first time. "Ah, there you are, Sextus! I see you're relatively unscathed. Celsie must have decided to be merciful."

I glanced at our uncle. "Denis must have told you of my fool's errand, then."

"That he did, yes, but actually I knew about it before he even told me. The Baron of Levington arrived just before suppertime yesterday evening, and after hearing his story, the countess called me in to ask after the best way for dealing with you."

My eyebrows rose. "And what did you tell her?"

Javana's blue-violet gaze skewered me. "That there _is _no 'best way' for dealing with you; you're a law unto yourself. I said it would be best to just pitch you into the moat and have done with the business." A faint grin softened her words, and she stood to give me a sisterly embrace. "I _am_ glad to see you though, you scapegrace. Just tell me you didn't…." A glance at my daughter caused her to pause before continuing, with a slight alteration of phrasing, I imagined. "You didn't take advantage of the…situation with the Levington girl, I certainly hope?"

"No, of course not!"

Grub, not taken in by the more obscure phrasing for an instant, smiled reassuringly up at her aunt. "Don't worry, I chaperoned him. Lady Avisa said I could share his pallet. She said it was an important job, keeping Six out of trouble."

I stared at the child. So _that_ was why she'd spent every night with me after that first night of the trip from Kinlochan! She'd told me she'd had nightmares, the lying little runt!

"Avisa Moreau?" Javana's eyes sparked with sudden bright interest. "Lady Avisa is the dowager baroness of Kinlochan?"

I glanced back up at her, startled. "Yes, she is. You know her?"

My sister gave me a speculative look. "Not really. Not well, at any rate; we've only met twice, and that was years ago." She picked up her needlework, toying with it as she continued. "It was during one of my early trips back to Rhemuth after marrying Walter, and he didn't approve of me mingling with the other Court ladies—he was probably afraid someone might discover I was under his mental control if they got to know me well enough—so occasions to meet other courtiers' wives were quite limited. Lady Avisa made a special effort to call upon me once when she'd heard I was in the city. I'm not entirely certain why, though I was so starved for female companionship, I was grateful for the effort. She came by the apartment a couple of times while Walter was up at the Castle on Court business, but then Walter and I returned to Caerdraig and our paths haven't crossed since." She tilted her head, studying me curiously. "Was she calling on me on your behalf?"

I shook my head, baffled. "No, I hadn't met her at the time." Well, actually I _had_, come to think, though that one brief meeting had been a few years earlier, and I'd not thought enough about it to even remember her name. Surely I hadn't made _that_ much of an impression on Avisa during that short tour of Rhemuth's grounds? No, there had to be some other explanation, something much less far-fetched than that. After all, it was quite possible that Lady Avisa hadn't even been aware that Javana was an Arilan, much less my sister. Besides, Lady Avisa had married in the same summer my sister had, so if they'd met during one of Javana's early trips back to Rhemuth, surely Baron Edgar's bride would have long since forgotten about any girlish fancies she might have harbored for me before her marriage.

Javana looked a trifle regretful. "She must have thought me a cold, distant sort, but there really was a limit to how much I could respond to her overtures of friendship, given the compulsions I was under at that time, and my fear that any outside relationships I might form would draw Walter's attention. I didn't want any harm to come to her. Would you tell her for me that I _was_ grateful, even if I was unable to show it?"

I gave a mental sigh of relief. Finally, something I might be able to do _right_ on this trip! "You could tell her yourself, if you'd like. She's here in Derry. Shall I arrange a visit before we head back to Kinlochan?"

My sister gave a startled glance at Denis, then back at me. "She accompanied you through the Portal from Dhassa? Is she Deryni?"

I wasn't certain if Lady Avisa meant that information to be shared or held in confidence, even from my own family, so I merely grinned. "She just couldn't bear to let me out of her sight," I joked.

"Yes, because it seems that when I do, the numpty drags home damsels in distress," a voice good-naturedly groused behind me as Grub giggled. I whirled to see the lady in question standing there, raising her eyebrows at me before looking past me to smile at my sister. "Well met again, Lady Javana. I hope you don't mind the interruption of an extra party, but it seems my newest steward is a wayward sort and tends to get himself into trouble if I take my eyes off him." She crossed her arms, grinning at me challengingly.

I laughed, relieved to see her jesting about the matter rather than harboring lingering anger at me. "I'm sorry, my lady, I didn't realize you'd followed me over from Countess Derry's withdrawing room!"

"Oh, you _meant_ to leave me waiting on you there? How ungallant." Lady Avisa looked as if she might be stuffing down a laugh as she glanced at Denis. "I'm certain you taught him better, my lord bishop."

"Indeed," Denis affirmed with an admonishing look at me.

I blushed. "I meant, I thought you were walking through the grounds or something. Taking in the sights…." My voice trailed off. In truth, once the whole ordeal with Lady Jennet had come to its unexpected close, I'd been so relieved to be free from her that I'd only had thoughts of a quick visit to my sister in mind, and then a hasty retreat back to Dhassa to prepare for our journey back to Kinlochan. The fact that I'd left the dowager baroness of Kinlochan standing around in a stranger's hall without escort, I'd completely failed to notice. "I'm sorry, Lady Avisa. I simply didn't think."

"Apology accepted. The Countess was delightful company." She gave me a teasing grin. "We talked about you, but since you deserted me so abruptly, I won't tell you what you missed."

My sister watched the exchange with great interest. "How did my brother end up in your employ, Lady Avisa?" she asked. "Have you known him long, or how did you meet him?"

"Only a few months, really," my patroness said, turning her attention back to my family. "I made his acquaintance at a couturier's shop while helping him order gowns and undergarments and other female fripperies." At my sister's startled look, she added, "For Amanda, of course. Sextus would look quite silly wearing a woman's bliaut."

Denis gave a reluctant grin. I knew he was envisioning just that from the devilish gleam in his eyes as he looked at me.

"You're quite right," Javana added, her voice desert-dry but with an amused glint in her eyes. "He hasn't the figure to carry it off at all."

"No, I favor the 'Gates of Hell' myself," I joked, referring to the sideless surcoats that some ladies of fashion had taken to wearing over closely-fitted gowns that showed off their feminine curves to best advantage.

"You would," Denis retorted with a roll of his eyes at me.

#

The Lady of Kinlochan was soon seated in the relative comforts of Javana's small chamber. I leaned against the wall just inside the door, watching quietly as she continued to charm her way effortlessly into my family's good graces. Even Denis looked utterly besotted. There was the occasional jest at my expense, but all were made good-naturedly and I responded in kind. Mostly I just watched, troubling thoughts arising as I watched the tableau play out before me, because I had just awakened to a disturbing truth.

I had somehow, over the past several weeks, managed to fall in love with the damned enchantress before me, or at the very least I was in grave danger of tumbling over the brink of that steep precipice, and I had no idea what to do about the problem. And it was very much a problem. I couldn't very well offer for her, after all, at least not in any sort of respectable way. What could I possibly have to offer to a woman who was my primary source of livelihood? Nearly everything I held, aside from my daughter and my horse, my arms and armor, and the clothes upon my back, was in my trust solely because this woman, for reasons known only to God I suppose, had seen something in me and entrusted them to me as her steward. And as her steward, it was one of my duties to guard my lady from fortune-hunters, not to become one.

Not that her fortune and properties meant anything to me, aside from my gratitude that they enabled her to offer me a position that would allow me to raise up Grub in the way my daughter deserved. Technically, aside from the dower lands which would remain her own even after the need for her regency had ended, I supposed the entire lot belonged to her son Aldwyn, and as his regent she was simply as much a steward of his possessions as I was. Still, that hardly made me any more worthy of her. Even if she were willing to consider a mere knight errant as a second husband, she knew my flaws far too well to ever seriously consider granting me that privilege, no matter what girlish fancies she might have once entertained as a young maiden dazzled by her first visit to Rhemuth Court and feeling the initial stirrings of womanly desire and hopes for romance.

Not, of course, that I really wanted to be anyone's husband. I enjoyed being a carefree bachelor far too much to settle down with just one woman, no matter how captivating I found her.

At least, that's what I told myself. With any luck, eventually I might start believing it again.

#

We ended up staying in Derry longer than I'd expected, returning to Dhassa just before nightfall, and only then because Lady Avisa reluctantly reminded Denis that if she remained any longer, her men-at-arms were sure to question her prolonged absence and might start to worry.

The Kinlochan men were just returning from their own explorations of the holy city as we returned to the Bishop's Palace. They were not surprised to discover that Lady Jennet was no longer among us and that there had been an alteration to our travel plans. Earlier in the morning, I had briefly discussed with Denis whether to inform Lady Avisa's men-at arms of our plans to finish the final leg of our journey via magical means, but as I neither knew what her men might make of that, nor was Denis ready to make it general knowledge that Dhassa's palace had its own private Transfer Portal, we'd decided to inform them that the Bishop had made certain arrangements to convey the maiden on the remainder of the journey, as he also had business of his own to attend to in Derry, and therefore our entourage was no longer required for the purpose. That explanation proved quite sufficient to allay their curiosity, bolstered as it was with a mild mental suggestion to consider the matter closed and be grateful we'd be returning to Kinlochan a few days sooner than expected. As for Lady Jennet's own knowledge of the Portal, the countess had taken a few brief moments, as she said her farewells to her guests from Levington, to blur those memories ever so slightly, so that the damsel had left Derry remembering only that the journey from Kinlochan to Derry had been tiring but uneventful, the travel fare mediocre, the camp bed less comfortable than it looked, and my presence altogether too maddening. In short, she remembered everything quite clearly aside from her brief hop through Denis's Portal and her arrival at the Countess's Portal in Derry. And as for her father, he'd not actually seen us arrive or leave, so he had no reason to assume there was anything remarkable about our arrival or departure aside from the speed of our travel while encumbered with a full entourage.

Denis invited Lady Avisa to join Grub and myself for a private supper in his chambers, while the Kinlochan men, having already dined during their outing, made ready for our departure from Dhassa the following morning. Although my uncle had graciously invited the dowager baroness to stay as his guest for another day so she could enjoy the sights of the famous city before returning home, she'd declined the offer with equal grace, expressing her hope to return again on some other occasion, but as for this visit, she felt her absence from her sons had lasted long enough, and she also hoped that if we left early enough on the morrow, we might make a detour along our way back to Kinlochan to visit her dower lands. This was the first I'd heard of such a plan.

"Where _are_ your dower lands, my lady? Are they close to Kinlochan?"

"Not all that close, but not all that far either. From Chateau de Moreau to Godwyn Hall, it's about a day's ride east and about a half hour north of the Molling River, near the source of one of the streams that feeds into it."

I thought back on our route. "Not all that far out of Swinford, then?"

"No, not far. Had we arrived in Swinford an hour or two earlier on our way here to Dhassa, I'd have suggested swinging north and spending the first evening of our journey in the comfort of my dower house, but we had barely enough light left to set up camp as it was." A wry smile. "And that would have meant coming upon the household unannounced, for which they'd hardly thank me."

"Not to mention an extra hour's travel in Lady Jennet's company. I'm not certain which of those would have been the greater trial."

Avisa gave a mirthless chuckle. "Is your arm longer now than it used to be?"

I looked up from my meal in puzzlement. "My arm?"

"From your damsel in distress clinging incessantly to it. You must be relieved all that weight is gone."

Grub looked up from where she was nearly nodding off over her food. "Six, do I still have to sleep on your pallet, or are you safe now? If I have to share a pallet, I'd rather sleep with Lady Avisa."

_So would I._ I hastily suppressed the thought. "Why, do I snore?"

She giggled. "No, but you steal all the covers."

"Oh, does he now?" Lady Avisa grinned at me. "Have you tried nailing the edges of the blanket to the bedframe?"

Denis gave an amused snort. "Mercy, lady, don't tell her _that! _ She's her father's daughter; she might actually _do_ it!"

#

By the time we'd finished our late supper, it was time to retire and rest up for the morning's journey. A young priest on Denis's staff led the baronial men-at-arms to a nearby dormitorium within the palace which had guest beds prepared for their use, and a novice awaited Lady Avisa and Grub in the corridor just outside the bishop's private apartments, ready to escort them to a convent guest-house just across the courtyard below. To my surprise, Denis had invited me to stay in his private apartment for the remainder of the night, saying I could sleep as comfortably there as in the dormitorium.

The Bishop ushered his female visitors towards the door, bidding them both a pleasant evening. Lady Avisa bowed over his ring in preparation to take her leave. "Thank you so much for your hospitality, Bishop Arilan, and for all of your assistance earlier today. It has been an absolute delight to meet you and to rekindle my brief acquaintance with your niece." She paused at the outer door of his apartment, her gaze landing on the luxuriant foliage of a potted plant easily visible through his open study door. She caught my eye, suppressing a grin. "Oh my, how lovely! Is that a Bird of Paradise in your study, my lord bishop?"

Denis, after a startled pause, followed the direction of her gaze. "Why yes, it is, my lady."

She turned an angelic smile up to the bishop's look of inquiry. "How surprising! I never thought to see one thriving in a bishop's palace. Do the Archbishops know?"

His jaw dropped as he stared at her, looking as if he were unsure he'd heard her correctly. She turned to me, her grin breaking free and her eyes sparkling with deviltry, and stepped out into the corridor with Grub, leaving me roaring with laughter at my stunned uncle as the door closed behind them.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

_June 23, 1134_

_Dhassa, the Bishop's Palace_

We left Dhassa shortly after daybreak the following morning after a quick breakfast. Denis, anxious to give us his travel blessings and see us off safely before getting too caught up in his busy schedule for the day, met us in the stable courtyard.

Grub surprised him with a present upon his arrival. "I saved something for you!" My uncle looked startled as she thrust something into his hand. It appeared to be a wadded up linen napkin pilfered from our breakfast table. "It's inside. Careful, don't drop it!"

He prodded gingerly at the package. "Hm. Well, whatever it is, it's much too small to be a sweet roll." Denis looked puzzled as he unfolded the small bundle, his expression clearing only slightly as his explorations revealed the prize at its center—a tiny ivory object with a smear of brownish red on one jagged end. "Is it…?" His expression turned to surprise. "You've lost a tooth, have you?"

Grub grinned, showing off the new gap in her smile. "I did! I saved the relic for you."

"The _relic?_" The Bishop of Dhassa bit his lip, struggling not to laugh.

"Yes. Sister Luke at the convent said those fancy boxes we saw this morning were filled with all sorts of teeth and bones and stuff from all those saints in the colored windows." She shrugged. "I figured, since it was loose and you looked to be collecting…."

His laugh broke free. Denis shook his head, tucking the tooth away into his pouch for safe-keeping. "An Arilan relic. I shall have to ponder where to keep it." His blue-violet gaze slid over to Lady Avisa, who looked like she was struggling to keep her own composure. "Maybe I could keep it in the small coffer on that lamp-stand just inside my study door where its sanctity might have some beneficial influence on my poor Bird of Paradise," he added, his voice dry, though at the wicked gleam in his eyes as he shot her a wry smile she lost the battle and began to laugh. He crouched down to sweep the child into his embrace. "Be a good lass for your father."

"I will."

He glanced up at me. "And make sure he minds his behavior and remembers to make his confessions regularly. At least once a month, mind."

"He will. If he doesn't, I'll kick him in the arse."

Denis drew back slightly, his eyebrows climbing into his hairline. I suppressed a wince, waiting for the explosion. Instead, he said mildly, "You'll do no such thing, Amanda Arilan. _You_ are a gently bred young lady now, or at least that's what you ought to be aspiring to, so that would hardly be fitting. Instead, you'll have a quiet word with Kinlochan's chaplain, and if need be, _he_ can kick your father..." The steady gaze traveled back up to my face. "In the hindquarters." It might have been a trick of the light, but I could swear I saw a trace of a smirk on the bishop's face.

Our horses were led out, and in the background I could see the men-at-arms making some final adjustments to the baggage affixed to Lady Avisa's coach. Grub's face lit up as a groom led Murray towards us, and as Denis released her and straightened, she scampered over to greet him, showing my mount the new space between her teeth. He lowered his head as if to get a closer look, and my uncle chuckled.

"Safe travels, Sextus," he said softly. He clapped my back. "Take good care of your ladies on your way back to Kinlochan."

I knew, of course, that he only meant 'my' ladies in the most general way. Still, a slow warmth crept up my neck as I glanced towards Lady Avisa.

"I'll do my best, Uncle Denis."

He nodded, and miracle of miracles, I thought I caught the faintest hint of an approving smile upon his lips. "I know you will."

#

_June 26_

_Godwyn Hall, The Duchy of Haldane_

We'd newly arrived at Lady Avisa's dower manor, where we planned to spend the rest of the evening and part of the next day before beginning the final leg of our journey to Kinlochan. Lady Avisa had sent two of the men-at-arms ahead earlier in the morning so that they could inform her household of our imminent arrival and make the necessary preparations for our overnight stay. The rest of us had arrived on schedule in the late afternoon. Lady Avisa had excused herself to the manor house to oversee the remaining preparations, bringing Grub inside with her, while the men and I tended to the horses and put up the coach for the evening.

Those labors done, I excused the men. They headed for the hall with the eagerness of men who were no strangers to the manor and who looked forward to the rest and refreshment that awaited them within. As I entered, a tall chestnut-haired man who looked to be not much older than myself glanced up at me from across the large room and smiled in greeting. "Sir Sextus Arilan, are you?"

"I am," I affirmed, returning his polite bow.

"James Holland, Lady Avisa's steward for Godwyn Hall. I've set up sleeping accommodations for you and Lady Amanda in my lady's solar tonight, and will set out some pallets for your men here in the Hall once we retire for the night. I hope that will be satisfactory. The manor house has a guest wing, but it was in dire need of some repairs which are still underway and I'm afraid it's not yet ready for use." He gave me an apologetic look. "We weren't expecting my lady to be in residence until her guardsmen arrived early this afternoon."

"That's not a problem, Master James. It's just a two night stay. We'll be continuing on to Kinlochan the day after tomorrow at morning's light, but Lady Avisa wanted to see how her own lands are faring since our route brought us so close."

He nodded. "You're en route back from Dhassa, I understand? Well, we'll do our best to see to your comfort during your short stay. I've had one of the chambermaids prepare a bath for you in the solar." The steward beckoned to a young boy standing attentively to one side of us. "My son can show you the way. Jamie?"

"Aye, Father!" The lad smiled up at me. "This way, m'lord."

#

When we arrived upstairs, I found the bath almost fully poured for me. "I've left the last bucket o' hot water out, m'lord," the chambermaid explained, bobbing a curtsey, "for I didna want t' make th' water too hot for a summer bath. But I've left it close by, in case th' bathwater cools too quickly and ye want t' add a bit more warmth t' keep from catching a chill. Will there be aught else, m'lord? If you need yer hair washed, Jamie can tend t' ye." She gave me a shy smile.

"I can wash my own hair," I assured them both. "I learned how long ago." I winked at the young chambermaid, who giggled. "But before you leave, I have two questions. Do you happen to know where my daughter has gone off to?"

"Aye, m'lord, she's wi' Lady Avisa in her bower at th' moment, havin' a nap, but I think they mean to go down t' th' side garden in a wee bit, on th' west side o' the house." She pointed out a door on the other side of the solar. "My lady's bower is on th' other side o' that door, but she knows ye're taking yer rest in here, so she'll go out th' other corridor instead o' coming through here. So ye can take all th' time ye want for yer bath."

I nodded, though a concern for privacy hadn't been among my worries. I'd spent far too much time on campaign to be overly modest anymore, though as the maid spoke, it belatedly occurred to me that Lady Avisa, despite having been married before, might feel uncomfortable about walking in on a man having his bath, so I was glad she had an alternate means of exit from her bower.

"And how soon am I expected downstairs? Will we be dining in the Hall tonight?"

"Lady Avisa has asked for a simple supper t' be served in the Hall in a couple o' hours. If ye're in need of a nap after yer bath, I can send someone up t' wake ye beforehand."

"That won't be necessary. Thank you."

"Will that be all, m'lord?" She curtseyed again.

I glanced at the bathwater. The lukewarm water looked inviting—warm enough for comfort, yet cool enough to provide some respite from the hot summer day, not to mention welcome relief from the sweat and grime of our days of travel. I nodded at the chambermaid and the steward's son. "Yes. Thank you both."

#

I readied myself for the bath, digging into my travel bags for a fresh change of clothing that wasn't too wrinkled. I found a set of clean clothes that would serve, sprinkling the tunic and chausses lightly with water from the tub and smoothing the worst of the creases out of the fabric with my hands before laying them out close to the open window to dry in the warm summer breeze blowing in. As I walked back towards the tub, the sound of laughter and feminine voices drifted through the closed door between the solar and Lady Avisa's bower. I paused near the doorway, my curiosity captured by their conversation.

"She's still asleep, m'lady. Poor child; th' coach travel must have tired her out."

"Oh, don't even mention that God-forsaken coach!" Lady Avisa's voice was saying. "If I think of spending another minute in that blasted contraption, I'll go mad." She sighed. "I've never been so happy to set eyes on Godwyn Hall."

"Maybe you could ride Nutmeg the rest of the way to Kinlochan, m'lady?" a matronly sounding voice said. "She ain't so old she couldn't handle a day's journey."

"Or maybe you could ride pillion behind that handsome new steward o' yours," a younger voice said with a giggle. "That's what _I'd_ do, m'lady."

"Sir Sextus _is_ quite nice to look at, isn't he? I doubt he'd want his mount carrying a double burden when there's a perfectly good coach available, though. Besides…." Avisa's voice held a note of dry amusement, "the last time I had something strong and muscular surging between my legs, the poor soul died of heart failure!"

Her attendants whooped with gleeful laughter. "Lady Avisa!" the younger maid exclaimed, sounding scandalized. "What a way t' think o' yer marital duties!"

"Are you worried about overtaxing the horse's energies or your steward's?" another teased, causing another round of giggles. My imagination supplied a vivid picture of the latter scenario, leaving me breathless.

"The horse, you ninny!" Avisa exclaimed, sounding torn between amusement and exasperation. "We don't have _that_ sort of relationship."

"You and the horse don't? Sweet Jesú, m'lady, I'd hope not!"

Lady Avisa chortled. "No, you _know_ what I meant! Mercy, it's hot in here. Cécy, open the windows, please."

"They're already open, m'lady."

I made a hasty retreat from the doorway. The bathwater had cooled markedly even during the short delay since it had been brought up, but after overhearing Avisa's maidservants at their jesting, the chilled water was a welcome relief.

#

By the time I'd soaked away the soil and stresses of my travels and donned a fresh set of garb, it was time to go downstairs to the Hall. There I found a trestle table set up with a few platters of manchet, fresh cheese, berries in cream, cold slices of meats, and a sallet, and close by was another table where Lady Avisa's Kinlochan men sat enjoying the simple meal. My stomach growled in appreciation as I joined them.

"Where are Lady Avisa and Amanda?" I asked once I noticed their absence from the Hall. For that matter, the Hall seemed notably empty of females in general.

Master James bowed before me as he served me from the platters. "Lady Avisa asked to have their repast served in the side garden, my lord. As your daughter fell asleep promptly after your arrival here, and Lady Avisa has been too caught up in various matters to have taken the time to refresh herself and relax earlier, they have both gone to do so now in the garden pavilion, now that the sun is low enough for the heat of the day to have subsided but before too much chill is in the night air."

"I see." That sounded like a pleasant enough way to end the day. I took my trencher gratefully, suddenly starving, and gave the matter no more thought until I'd eaten my fill.

#

"I'll be taking a walk around the grounds, if anyone should come looking for me," I informed the most senior of Lady Avisa's Kinlochan guardsmen once I'd finished supping.

"Aye, m'lord." He glanced at the other three men-at-arms. "I'll be sure to let Master James know as well. The lads and I were thinking of heading down to the village tavern tonight for an hour or two; it's not but a few minutes' walk down the road, just past the next bend. Would you care to join us? It won't be for another hour or so, once our supper settles a bit and the moon has risen over the hills."

I considered the invitation. On some other night it would have been tempting, but I was too weary to want to stir any distance from the manor house that night. "Some other time, though thanks for thinking of me. I believe I'll be early to bed tonight."

"Can't blame you," he replied with a grin. "I'll down a pint for you."

I chuckled, rising from the bench. "Yes, do."

#

The manor gardens were small but well tended, and the garden paths looked inviting. I strolled aimlessly for a few minutes, feeling vaguely restless. My steps eventually led me to the west side of the house, where on the far end I saw a canvas pavilion, undecorated save for a heraldic lozenge. Not the Moreau arms that hung so proudly on display at Kinlochan, but the lady's own birthright, I assumed as I drew closer. The heraldic arms of a Taggert daughter. It was lit from within, the flicker of lamps or candlelight throwing shimmering highlights on the canvas even as the rising dusk created growing shadows where the fabric walls and roof before me folded and draped. I heard feminine voices and laughter from within, along with the melodic strains of a rebec being played, and realized I'd found the retreat where Lady Avisa had decided to dine.

The song ended, the rebec player following it with a new tune almost immediately, one with a melody which I recognized. _Summer is a-coming in, indeed_, I thought with a smile as I approached the entrance flap. I could see silhouettes against the canvas now, one figure's shadow standing out crisply against the sun-bleached fabric. The rebec player's shadow, I saw, standing close by the near wall. Other figures, their shapes less defined due to movement and their distance from the pavilion walls, moved within.

I peered within. Two women, their backs to me, stood holding a rectangle of snowy fabric. Another woman stood nearby, carrying what appeared to be garments. Something large and round lay just beyond all three, but it took me a moment to recognize what it was.

A light sound barely audible over the music caught my ear. As unexpected as it was, I did not recognize that either right away. Lady Avisa's head, wrapped in a turban of toweling, popped up just as my mind belatedly realized it had been the soft trickle and splash of water I'd just heard. The women holding the rectangle of cloth moved to enfold her within it, and with a sudden shock I realized I'd come upon my patroness at her bath. I hastily dropped the canvas flap of the pavilion door back into place, but not before catching a glimpse of the large wooden vat lined with towels of bright linen and with a board stretched across it to hold goblets and platters containing what remained of a meal. On the other side of the board sat my daughter, doubtless seated on a bench inside the tub so that her head and hands would not be submerged under the water while she enjoyed her bath and supper. She glanced up at the motion of the falling fabric.

"Six, is that you?" her gleeful voice asked. "Are you going to join us?"

A startled exclamation, followed by a chorus of shocked giggles. The rebec was suddenly silenced. As I stepped swiftly away from the pavilion's entrance, an unfamiliar face peered out at me. "Lady Avisa is not available at the moment, my lord. She'll be out presently," the woman said briskly.

"I...ah...it was nothing important," I managed to mumble. "My apologies." Within, I heard whispers and more laughter. I hastily retraced my steps in the direction I'd come.

#

There was a knock on the adjoining door between lady's bower and solar later that evening, after I'd tucked Grub into her makeshift bed and was getting ready to settle in for the night myself. I opened it cautiously. Lady Avisa stood on the other side of the doorway, one of her maidservants standing a discreet distance behind her, stealing curious looks at me.

"I am so sorry I didn't think to warn you off from the side garden tonight," the lady of the manor said, blushing fiercely. "In truth, I simply didn't think. My staff here is quite familiar with my summer customs, and doubtless believed you to be so as well, and I've also hardly seen you since our arrival..." She dropped her eyes, looking suddenly shy. "At any rate, I do hope you'll forgive my oversight."

I nodded. "Of course." What else was there to say? "I hope you rest well. Good night, my lady."

"Good night, Sir Sextus." She closed the door quietly. A moment later, I heard the click of the latch fall into place, and shortly after that a slight scraping sound, as of a trundle bed being pulled out from under a higher one and dragged into place. The voices within the lady's bower soon subsided. I finished my bedtime preparations and settled onto the cushioned daybed against the solar wall. Despite my exhaustion, visions of Lady Avisa creamy shoulders and dewy skin kept flitting unbidden into my mind, and sleep was a long time in coming.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

_June 27, 1134_

_Godwyn Hall, Duchy of Haldane_

It was the sound of a giggly girl that woke me the following morning. "I need you to tie my points, Six. I can't figure out how."

I opened my eyes, wondering what Grub was talking about. My eyes widened further as I saw what the child was wearing. "Where in the world did you find _that_ get-up?" I asked, staring at her. Grub was wearing the undershirt and braies of a young boy—from the size of the garments, one who had only recently been breeched—and was struggling to figure out how to attach the points of the chausses to the braies so that they would stay up on her skinny little legs.

"Lady Avisa gave them to me. She said they used to be Jamie's, but he's outgrown them long since, and she said they'll be more practical than skirts where we're going."

I got up, walking over to a nearby basin and ewer to wash the sleep from my eyes and wake myself up further. "Where is it that you're going?"

Grub shrugged her skinny shoulders. "I don't know, but Lady Avisa says you're going with us." She giggled. "So be sure not to wear long skirts."

"Right." I rolled my eyes at her as I bent to secure her chausses to her braies. "If I can't wear my fancy gowns, I'm sure I'll have nothing else suitable." She chortled. I tickled her ribs with my finger as I straightened, making her giggle even louder, then popped a short overtunic over her head to complete the ensemble. "There. You're a proper boy now, aside from all that hair. Let's see if we can scare it into submission."

She drew a face at me, twisting her hair in one hand and stuffing it all under a cap. I sighed. "No, it will only be a tangled mess later if you leave it like that. Let's comb the snarls out first. You didn't braid it before bedtime, did you?"

She pouted. "No. It was still damp and I forgot. Can't Lady Avisa comb it out? She doesn't pull as hard as you do."

I rummaged in my bags for my comb, running it swiftly through my own short hair before handing it to my daughter. "Lady Avisa is probably quite busy this morning, but here, you can see if one of her maidservants can tame that rat's nest." I tousled the snarly mess. "Run on now while I find something to wear."

"No gowns, remember!" She giggled again.

"No gowns. Trust me, Grub, no one here wants to see _that!_"

#

To my relief, when we found Lady Avisa in the Hall later, she was not wearing the same sort of clothing as my daughter. I didn't think it would have been possible for me to go blithely through the day at her side while trying not to stare at shapely female legs swathed in close-fitting fabric. Instead, she wore a modest kirtle belted at the waist, though as Grub skidded to a stop before her, proclaiming her disappointment at seeing the lady dressed so normally, the dowager baroness laughed and pulled the hem of her skirts up to knee height, allowing us a glimpse of linen chausses and short boots worn underneath her more feminine garments. "Don't worry, sweeting; you'll get your adventure soon enough. But first, we've got work to do." She glanced up at me. "Sir Sextus, I shall require your assistance. Though if we can get our tasks completed by nuncheon, I've asked Cook to prepare a hamper of food we can bring with us to my favorite place in all of Gwynedd." Her eyes drifted to Grub's face with her last statement, and she smiled as the girl's face lit up. "And _there_, we'll have our adventure!"

"Six is coming too, ain't he?"

Lady Avisa met my eyes, chuckling slightly. "Yes, 'Six' can come too, but only if he promises to behave himself. Or, more likely, to keep us both out of trouble. And only if we get enough work done here first."

#

We followed the lady and Master James outside, where I soon discovered the work of the morning was to be a thorough inspection of the manor's guest wing that was still under reconstruction, along with discussion of what other labor might be required to bring Godwyn Hall back to its full glory and, if the lady's personal coffers would allow, modernize certain portions of the property. While the building had never been allowed to fall into a state of complete disrepair, it had been one of Lady Avisa's family's lesser properties, with the family in residence only during brief visits, generally during the summer months, so they had not tended to the place as well as they had to their more frequented properties. When Avisa had married Edgar Moreau, Godwyn Hall had been given to her as part of her dower, but she had been too busy to visit the property very often between her responsibilities as a young wife and mother and, after Baron Edgar's death, her even greater responsibilities as the baronial regent to Kinlochan.

Avisa, however, wished to rectify the matter now, for Godwyn Hall had been the place of her birth and she looked forward to a time when it would someday be her permanent residence, once little Aldwyn had grown into full manhood and was ready to assume his baronial duties. Not that she had any reason to believe she would no longer be welcome at Chateau de Moreau or any of Aldwyn's other Kinlochan properties after her son gained his majority, but Godwyn Hall was where her heart lay, ever since her earliest memories of childhood.

The guest wing had required the most immediate repairs, for it had been damaged in a storm that had blown through the area the previous month. Master James pointed out some roof damage that had been temporarily patched up to keep the elements out. It was this damage that Lady Avisa wished me to take a close look at, for several of the baronial chateau's outbuildings had suffered similar damage in the same storm.

While her Godwyn Hall steward and I discussed various options for restoring the property, along with the various merits and drawbacks and estimated costs for each, and I compared the availability and costs of labor and various materials here with what I'd noted during my brief stay in Kinlochan, Lady Avisa and Grub carried on their own conversation on the side, the dowager baroness dividing her attention between both conversations equally and with seeming ease.

"Yes, slate for the rooftop would work nicely, I agree. It's more costly than clay, though, and we'd have to import it. Look into the probable cost for that, would you, James? I'd rather pay for it from our own coffers, though if the extra expense isn't too exorbitant, I'll speak to Master Lars about arranging a loan from Kinlochan. We can repay it in full after next harvest. Sextus, Lars sourced that slate for the roof repairs at the Chateau; could you find out from him where he acquired it?" And moments later, almost before I'd had time to realize she was no longer addressing me, "Now see that window, sweeting? That used to be my chamber when I was your age. Sometimes late at night, once the household was abed, I'd climb out that window and down the trellis. My nurse was quite cross with me once she found out, and she had the shutters nailed shut. Climbing down the trellis was quite dangerous, so she was right to do so, but I didn't understand that at the time."

"It doesn't look dangerous," Grub told her. "I could climb down it quite easily, I should think."

"Oh, it's not the climb that's the issue but the likelihood of the trellis falling over and taking the climber with it. It's not a very sturdy trellis, and it's not well affixed to the wall. It could easily have broken under me, or fallen free of the wall and crushed me beneath it as it fell. It's the understanding of what _could_ happen that marks an important difference between a child's mind and an adult's, you see. We grown-ups have enough life experience to see all the things that could go wrong, while children are usually too busy just having fun and enjoying life to think of such things. Oh, James, look at what's happened to the gutter up there; how soon do you think we could attend to that?"

The dual conversations continued in that wise throughout the morning as we walked the grounds, Master James making careful notes on a set of wax tablets of all we had discussed as we walked along making our rounds of all the buildings on the lady's demesne.

#

We finished our rounds and discussion shortly after noon. Lady Avisa sent for our lunch hamper. A plump brunette with a pretty face and a ready smile brought it out shortly afterwards. Avisa introduced her as Godwyn Hall's cook, Nan Holland, Master James's wife and mother to young Jamie.

"I hear you're to have a grand adventure," Mistress Nan said, smiling down at Grub.

"Yes, mistress," Grub replied.

The cook glanced up at Lady Avisa with a grin. "Aye, you've not changed a bit, have you, my lady?"

The baroness laughed. "Let's hope not. I suppose I'm about to find out." She looked up at me. "Sextus, you won't have any trouble riding a short distance while carrying our nuncheon, will you?"

"Not unless it starts screaming and fighting back."

She took Grub's hand. "Off we go to the stables, then."

#

Upon our approach to the stable yard, I found Murray already saddled and waiting for me. Alongside him was a mare Lady Avisa informed me was Nutmeg, who had been her mother's favored mount once, but as the mare had grown older she'd become semi-retired and now remained at Godwyn Hall rather than at Taggerton. A groom soon led out a pony for Grub's admiring gaze.

"This is Buttercup, Amanda. She used to be mine before I got too big to ride her comfortably, so Jamie rides her now, but he won't mind us using her for the day. She's quite gentle; would you like to try riding her? I think you've come along well enough in your riding lessons to have a mount of your own for the afternoon."

Grub stared imploringly up at me. I nodded my permission. She beamed at us, barely managing to contain her excitement. I hoisted her up onto Buttercup's back, checking the stirrups to make sure they were adjusted properly for her before handing the hamper over to the groom to hold while I mounted Murray. He handed the hamper up to me once I'd settled into the saddle.

Lady Avisa, already seated on Nutmeg and eager to get started, smiled over her shoulder at us. "Ready?

"Yes, my lady!" Grub gave me a gap-toothed grin.

"Let's go," I said.

#

We rode through the lady's demesne and past the outlying fields until we reached a shallow stream. The horses picked their way through the knee-deep current, Nutmeg leading the way up the slope of a hill to an old oak tree that was not particularly tall but which had a thick trunk that grew at a slant before taking an upward bend, and which forked into sturdy branches not very far up from its base. From one high branch swung a rope. Lady Avisa gave the rope a few brisk tugs, testing its strength, and smiled. She dismounted, helping Grub down from Buttercup's back. Horse and pony immediately sauntered off to enjoy the cool shade of a nearby grove. It was evident they'd both been here lots of times before. I handed the hamper down to Avisa and dismounted also, allowing Murray to join the rest of the small herd.

The lady handed the hamper back to me, sheltering her eyes with one hand and peering up into the trees branches briefly before giving a nod of satisfaction. "See that platform up there? That's where we'll be dining." She grinned down at Grub. "Have you ever climbed a tree before, Amanda?"

Grub's eyes grew wide. "Not one _this_ big, m'lady."

"Oh, the King Tree is big, but he's quite beginner-friendly. I'll go up behind you to tell you where to step and make sure you won't tumble." She began to hitch up her skirts to make the climb possible, securing the raised and gathered fabric with her belt. Now I understood her need for chausses and braies under the voluminous fabric. She glanced teasingly up at me as she straightened. "I imagine _you_ can manage to climb well enough, Sir Sextus?"

I chuckled, studying the tree's structure. "Oh, it's been a while, but I think I can manage well enough."

"If you tie the rope to the handle of the hamper, we should be able to haul our food up after us," she advised as she gave Grub a boost up the sloping trunk towards the lowest fork. By the time I'd finished securing it, they were both high above, almost to the platform. I gave the knot a final tug, sneaking a surreptitious peek at shapely calves disappearing into the foliage above me, and clambered up behind them.

#

The remnants of our meal had been returned to the hamper, and Lady Avisa and I sat in contented silence as we watched Grub swinging on the rope below. After a few moments, she tired of that activity and dropped to the ground, scampering off to wander along the water's edge. "Is it all right if I get wet?" she called up to me, her voice sounding wistful. I could hardly blame her. Up in the shade of the tree's foliage and high enough to catch the summer breezes, I felt quite comfortable, but in the sunnier area along the stream bank, at ground level, Grub would be much warmer.

"You can wade next to the bank, but don't go out in the middle of the current." I was probably being overly cautious—even at its deepest, the current had hardly come up past Murray's knees, and I doubted it was swift enough to sweep away even as tiny a youngster as Grub, yet since she was well out of arm's reach, it seemed safer to keep her closer to shore where the water was shallower. Grub, fortunately, didn't seem disposed to argue. Instead, she cheerfully shucked tunic, chausses and shoes and waded straight in wearing her boyish underclothes. Avisa laughed.

"I miss swimming," she said with a wistful sigh. She pointed a short way downstream. "About a hundred yards in that direction, the stream grows wider and about chest deep. I used to spend summers swimming like a little fish. Mother used to despair at me water-staining my gowns from the inside by pulling them back on over a soaking wet chemise."

I gave her a sidelong glance, imagining what she'd look like swimming in her chemise. "If you'd like to stay in practice…."

She laughed, her cheeks turning pink. "I think not; I'd shock Master James for sure if he saw me return from a ride with you in _that _state! Though if _you_ want to take a cool dip, I'll stay here and keep an eye on your daughter."

I studied the dowager baroness. She looked happier than I'd ever seen her. "You love Godwyn Hall," I observed.

"Yes, I do."

I leaned back onto my elbows, gazing up at the leafy canopy above our heads. "Why do you call this the King Tree?"

She swept a hand in a semicircle before her. "We're in the lone tree on this hilltop, overlooking all this woodland around us, holding Court. It's clearly the King Tree. It's far too majestic to be a simple baron, or even an earl or a duke."

I rolled onto my side to look at her. "When I joked back at Kinlochan House about your father having to haul you out of an oak tree to bring you to Court, I struck much closer to the truth than I knew, didn't I?"

"Yes." She studied me solemnly. "I hope you don't mind that I brought Amanda out here. I've got the impression she's never had much of a chance to enjoy being a child until quite recently, and it seemed a shame to let her grow into womanhood without ever experiencing these sorts of simple pleasures first." Her eyes grew shadowed. "They'll come so rarely later on."

"Unless she makes time for them, as you have," I countered.

The corners of her lips turned up wistfully. "Only if she's freer than most. Mayhap if she has an indulgent husband who doesn't mind her slipping off from her duties now and again."

"Or perhaps one who enjoys slipping off for a quiet afternoon with her whenever they can spare the time?" I wondered if Baron Edgar had simply been one to indulge, or if his young bride had ever brought him here to her childhood paradise. Somehow I couldn't imagine the elder, portly Edgar Moreau climbing trees or enjoying a private swim with his adventuresome young wife. I imagined other pleasures a newlywed husband might enjoy in the relative privacy of Avisa's woodland retreat, and felt a sudden twinge of envy.

I glanced down at Grub. She had gathered a collection of small twigs using her tunic for a basket, and was sitting at the edge of the stream weaving them into something. I watched, idly wondering what she was up to.

"Sextus…what do you think of Godwyn Hall?" I looked back up at her. The dowager baroness smiled at me, but there was a hint of some odd expression in her eyes. Anxiety, perhaps? Or maybe vulnerability?

I pondered the question. "Well, from what I've seen so far, it appears well managed. It needs a bit of upkeep, but Master James seems to have the repairs well in hand. And the household is quite clearly fond of you." I studied her quizzically. "Why do you ask?"

Her hands gripped the edge of the platform we sat upon. "Because…this is who I am, Sir Sextus. Who I _really_ am inside, and all that's truly my own." She gazed off into the distance, towards her childhood summer home. "I'm not a baroness—well, _technically_ I am, of course, by right of my late husband, but that's not who I am at heart, and once Aldwyn is grown up and has taken full control of his inheritance, this is where I'll come home to. And it's all I've ever wanted, really. At least, in terms of lands and title." She glanced up at me with a faint smile. "When my father told me he'd selected a husband for me, I only agreed to wed Edgar if I could have Godwyn Hall as my dower."

I nodded, wondering why she'd felt the need to share this with me, though I was honored by the unexpected confidence.

She stared down at her hands, unclenching their hold on the platform only to lace her fingers tightly together in her lap. "I told you once that neither of my parents are Deryni. Neither is James, to my knowledge, though I have reason to suspect he might be my brother. My half-brother, that is."

I quickly controlled my initial surprise at this revelation, looking away to ponder it more fully. I'd noticed that they both shared the same hair color, but chestnut hair was not so uncommon that the resemblance had struck me as out of the ordinary, and Master James's eyes were a clear blue rather than the mistress of Godwyn Hall's rich brown. "Why do you suspect that, my lady?"

Avisa bit her lip, as if trying to figure out how to formulate her thoughts. At last she broke the silence. "I overheard my parents arguing one night when I was in my sixth year. My father was angry; he'd just come back to Taggerton that evening from an extended absence, and my mother was with child. He knew from the timing that the baby wasn't his; the child had been conceived over the summer, while Mother and I were staying at Godwyn Hall. There was no way my father could have miscounted the months—he'd been gone since the previous spring, and by the time he'd returned to Taggerton, it was close to winter. Of course, at that age I only understood bits of the argument. I didn't know why Father was so angry. Mother's voice was harder to hear, her response was so quiet and she was crying, but she reminded him that he'd ever made it clear to her that her chief duty to our house was to bear him heirs for Taggerton, and if he'd not managed to sire one in all their years of marriage, that was hardly _her_ fault, and so he ought not to blame her if she fulfilled her duty to him in the only possible way." She gave a wry smile. "I suppose that irrefutable argument overcame the blow to his pride, since when my brother was born a few months later, he acknowledged the child as his own. Legally, of course, he _was_ my father's, even though he wasn't of my father's getting. They contrived some story about my father having visited Godwyn Hall for a week during the previous summer, and that was the end of it. But later, as I grew old enough to think back on that night and understand what had happened, I wondered if I might also have been sired at Godwyn Hall, shortly before my parents' marriage." She took a deep breath. "I was born just a fortnight short of nine months after they wed, you see. I _could_ have been my father's get, born slightly early, but Godwyn Hall came into our family by way of my mother, who grew up here, and she remained here until the end of August in the year that they married. She married my father during the final week of August. And I was born on the ninth day of that following May."

"Your father never suspected your paternity?"

She shrugged. "He must have, years later once his wife presented him with another man's son for an heir. But early on, I think they assumed I was a honey-month child." She looked up at me. "But there's another reason I believe I'm actually a Holland rather than a Taggert." She cupped her hand, creating copper handfire. "Our former steward—James's father—once discovered me playing with leaves behind the stables, making them dance about in a tiny whirlwind. I was focusing so hard on my efforts, I didn't realize he'd come upon me until he laid a gentle hand on my shoulder and whispered quietly in my ear, "Lass, don't _ever_ do that sort of thing where anyone might happen upon you. Our sort have been burned at the stake for far less." That's all he ever said about the matter, and all he'd ever needed to say, but what stuck with me long after was that he'd said '_Our_ sort.' Not simply '_your_ sort.'"

I considered all the evidence she'd presented. "Does Master James know?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I've never asked him, and if he does know or suspect anything, he's never mentioned it to me. He's an intelligent man, though, and I think surely he'd have noticed that his father and my mother seemed unusually close." She smiled sadly. "I think the only times I've ever seen my mother look almost happy were those summers that we spent here at Godwyn Hall, only it wasn't until I was nearly a woman grown that I ever truly understood why."

"And what of James's mother?"

"Oh, she died several years before I was born. James barely remembers her himself. His father never remarried."

I thought about the man's situation. A widower, in service to a young noblewoman he'd wanted—perhaps had even loved—but who was too highborn for him to presume to marry. Despite that, he'd succumbed to his temptation, seducing the maiden…or perhaps he'd been seduced by her instead? She'd been promised to another man, though, someone better suited in her family's eyes, so she'd been married off in due time, but not until she'd quickened with her lover's child.

It had been wrong for them to give in to their temptation, still more wrong for them both to have continued the dalliance after the lady's marriage. Still, I couldn't help but feel a shaft of pity for a man whose ill fortune in love seemed to so closely echo my own.

I glanced down at Grub, who was happily planting her newly-woven contraption in the stream, her mouth hanging slightly open and the tip of her tongue visible through the gap in her teeth as she focused intently on getting it to stay in place. At least I'd never had the heartache of seeing my own baseborn daughter claimed as another man's lawful child.

Lady Avisa laid her hand gently upon my own, recalling my attention back to her. "Sextus, I have no great lands or fortune of my own, nor am I even truly the woman others believe me to be, yet what I _do_ have, I offer you, if you would have me."

I stared at her, suddenly breathless. "I...Lady Avisa..." I took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "You may think you have little to offer a husband, but in truth, lady, _I_ have nothing to offer a wife at all." I gave her a rueful smile. "Naught but my name and a yearly living that I draw from your son's coffers. Why in heaven's name would you want _me _for a husband, of all men?"

She laughed softly. "Why would I not?" She traced a slender fingertip across the back of my hand. "Let's see...why would I want you? Well, for one thing..." Her eyes drifted downward towards the water's edge, where Grub waded, slowly scooping the flowing water towards the basket-like device she'd just made. "I want a daughter. Perhaps more than one. Or perhaps a son to inherit Godwyn Hall."

"Your younger son doesn't stand to inherit from you?" I asked, surprised.

"Oh, he does." The dowager baroness traced circles on my skin, making my breath quicken. "My younger brother died of a fever when he was just turned five, and my mother bore no other children, which leaves me as my father's heiress. Taggert stands to inherit Taggerton from me someday, and I was planning on ceding it to him once he's old enough to manage it, should my father die before Taggert achieves his majority. So both of my sons' futures are secure."

I took her hand, turning it palm up, tracing it lightly with my thumb. "Almost any man could give you more children, Avisa."

"Yes, that's true enough. But no other man could give me yours." She stroked my cheek with her free hand, turning my face towards her. "Don't you want me at least a little?" She leaned towards me, brushing her lips lightly across mine.

I drew a sharp, surprised breath. "That's hardly the issue, sweeting!"

"Maybe it is, for me at least." Her gaze dropped, her expression becoming uncertain. "I'm sorry. I thought...I imagined I'd seen something in your look at times, something that made me hope you might have begun to feel the same way about me that I've always felt about you, but perhaps I was mistaken. If I was, then please forgive me. I never meant to place you in an awkward situation." She drew her hand from mine, turning away, but not before I caught a look in her eyes that made my heart lurch. I'd seen that look before, after our accidental kiss at Kinlochan, and once more before that.

It was the same yearning that had flashed briefly in my daughter's eyes when she'd heard her name's meaning for the first time. _Beloved._

I'd been thinking only of my lady's best interests, yet now I realized that in my hesitation to accept her offer, I'd hurt her deeply. I'd been thinking a woman's greatest need in marriage was her need for security. Certainly, aside from the securing of lands and necessary alliances, that's what most men considered first and foremost when considering a suitable husband for their womenfolk. A woman needed a man not simply to serve as her strong right hand, to protect her, but also to support and provide for her. I'd not stopped to consider that, perhaps for some women at least, one other need might be stronger.

Had Avisa ever truly known love? I had little else to offer her. Could that possibly be enough?

I swallowed hard, suddenly nervous. I'd given my body to other women more times than I cared to count, but I'd never offered any of them my heart.

"Avisa..." I stopped her as she was about to climb off the platform. She paused, not looking at me. "It wasn't just your imagination."

She turned to face me slowly, a look of hope in her eyes.

"I love you, Avisa Taggert Moreau. Or Avisa Holland. Whoever you are."

A look of profound relief crossed her face. "Then will you marry me, Sextus Arilan?" A hint of laughter danced in her eyes. "I've never had a Deryni lover before. I quite hope I might learn something interesting."

I gathered her in my arms, my smile growing into a grin. "Then that makes two of us, sweeting, because come to think of it, neither have I."

#

"What _is_ it?" I had removed my shoes and stripped off my chausses, leaving my feet and legs bare to just above my knees so I could join my daughter in the ankle-deep water. Now I was inspecting her handiwork.

"It's a minnow trap," she told me excitedly. "The water flows along the bank like so…." She ran her fingers through the cool water in the direction of the current. "And then when the minnows come by, they end up in here!"

I studied the woven contraption. Inside the funnel-like enclosure, three tiny fish swam around looking confused. "Why, so they do! How clever." Grub beamed at the praise, and I tousled her hair. "We need to talk for a minute."

"We _are_ talking." She said it carefully, cocking her head at me as if fearing I might be a bit dull. I suppressed a grin.

"No, I mean about something in particular." I glanced up the hill at where Avisa waited, sitting on one of the lower branches of the sprawling oak. She smiled encouragement at me. I looked back down at my daughter. "I've been thinking, maybe it's about time I found a wife."

Grub's expression turned wary. "What do you want a wife for?"

"I…well…." I gaped at her. This wasn't going as I'd expected. "Well, a man _needs_ a wife!"

She looked at me as if I'd grown an extra eye. "That's _not_ what you told me when I asked you why you weren't married yet."

I tried to think back to when that conversation had happened. It had been back at Tre-Arilan, I thought, perhaps a day or two after I'd first brought Grub back from Nyford. "Oh. Right. Well, I might have changed my mind since then. A lot has happened in the past few months, you know."

She planted her hands on her hips, looking mutinous. "_You_ said marriage makes a man stuffy and boring!"

A burst of laughter wafted back from the top of the hill. Evidently Grub's voice had been loud enough to cover that short distance. I smiled at Avisa, my eyes drinking in the joyful glow in the cheeks of the woman who sat, bare feet dangling in mid-air, skirts still hitched up to reveal enticingly curved calves, looking more like an overgrown child herself than a respectable widowed baroness. Somehow, I couldn't imagine anything involving this woman ever becoming stuffy and boring. Perhaps marriage, at least to the right woman, might be the greatest adventure of all.

"That was before I met Lady Avisa," I told Grub quietly.

A look of relief crossed Grub's face. "Oh, Lady _Avisa!_ Well, that's all right, then." She ducked back down, fidding with her minnow trap. "I thought you meant to go back for that crazy lady. The strumpet with the orange hair who fawned all over you and fussed too damn much."

I gave a startled laugh. "Lady Jennet? You thought I meant to marry _her?"_

Grub cocked her head at me again. "You've done stupider things, Six."

I nodded. "Yes, I suppose I have. But don't worry; I wouldn't marry Jennet of Levington to save my soul even if all the demons of Hell were after me."

#

"This was the best day _ever!_" Grub murmured sleepily from her pallet late that night.

I paused in my packing for our journey back to Kinlochan the following morning, thinking back over the events of the day. "Yes, it was, sweeting," I agreed. On the other side of the closed door, I heard the voices of Avisa's chambermaids helping her get ready for bed, and despite having bid her a good night only a few minutes earlier, I felt a surge of renewed longing for her. Hopefully someday soon, there would be even better days and nights to follow.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

_July 4, 1134_

_Rhemuth Castle_

We sat in a small antechamber high in the King's Tower, waiting to be admitted into the King's presence. That is, Avisa sat patiently waiting; I, feeling more restless, was pacing in front of a small window, peering out occasionally at the cityscape below us, beyond the castle walls. From here, I could barely catch a glimpse of the rooftop of Kinlochan House, where the dowager baroness and I were once more in residence, having returned to Rhemuth from Chateau de Moreau just three days earlier. Now that we were planning on merging our families and, God willing, create more children someday, I felt a renewed urgency to locate a larger Rhemuth residence for us and our growing household to live in whenever our duties called us back to Gwynedd's capital.

I was restless in part because I felt no small twinge of trepidation over our private visit to Kelson this day. This was no simple courtesy call, after all. As regent for baronial lands within Kelson's Duchy of Haldane, any marriage Lady Avisa might wish to contract was subject to Royal approval, at least until such time as her son grew into his majority. And as her own dower property at Godwyn Hall was also in Kelson's duchy, and any man Avisa might wed would become the lord of that manor by right of his wife, Kelson was bound to want some say in Avisa's choice of a husband even had she not been the regent of Kinlochan. I knew the King well enough to suspect he would never use his Royal authority to order Avisa or any other lady to wed according to his own wishes and regardless of her own unless the need were great; however, that didn't necessarily mean he'd never use it to tell a lady whom she _couldn't_ wed, if he felt the match unsuitable.

Up until quite recently, I'd have felt more secure in the knowledge that, whatever other men might assume about me, Kelson had taken my measure well enough to know me better than most, and that he'd not deny me the desires of my heart in this matter. But that was before the debacle of the Levington mission, and I didn't know how much of that matter—if anything—had reached his ears yet. Hopefully all he'd heard was that the maiden had been returned to her father's home, and the matter was now closed.

A squire wearing a tabard in the royal colors appeared at the door. "His Majesty will see you now," he told us.

#

Kelson looked up from his writing desk as we entered the chamber. His gray eyes swept over us as we made our reverences. As the Haldane gaze rested on Avisa, he smiled, waving his hand in a gesture for us to rise. "My lady, I understand you have private business to bring before me?"

Avisa straightened, looking only slightly nervous. I had a quick flash of memory of the terrified fourteen-year-old maiden she'd been the first time she'd ever entered the King's presence. Gone was that frightened child now, though her manner was properly deferential as she faced Kelson. "Your Majesty, I do." She took a deep breath. "For the sake of myself and for those lands which I hold of you, I would request a boon."

One of Kelson's brows rose slightly as he glanced at me, then turned his attention back to my lady. "Indeed. What sort of boon, Lady Avisa?"

Avisa glanced up at me with a tender smile, then turned back to the King. "I would request the privilege of being allowed to marry a man of my choosing."

Both of Kelson's brows rose. He shot me another glance, his face otherwise expressionless, then looked back at Avisa. "I see. Anyone I know?" Was it just my imagination, or did just the faintest hint of a smile lurk in the corners of his lips?

Avisa looked mildly disconcerted. A blush rose to her cheeks. "Sir Sextus Arilan, Your Majesty." I could sense her struggle to say my name matter-of-factly as she glanced at me. To me, her eyes seemed to say quite clearly, _He's standing right here in front of you, you royal numpty!_

"Ah. Sir Sextus. Of course." There was definitely a gleam in Kelson's eye now, I could tell. "Forgive me, my lady, but I've been given to understand you've quite recently engaged Sir Sextus as steward-in-training for your Rhemuth property, so I didn't wish to assume the reason for his presence at your side." The Haldane gaze speared me. "As it happens, I have some personal business of my own with Sir Sextus, and while it pains me to keep a lady waiting upon my answer, I shall need to resolve that business before I can know what reply I should give to yours. Perhaps you could withdraw to the antechamber again for a short while so Sir Sextus and I could speak privately about the matter? I promise our discussion shouldn't take very long."

Avisa shot a quick look at me, her discomfort growing. "I...of course, Your Majesty." She dipped into a deep curtsey.

Kelson gave her a reassuring smile. "You've served me most faithfully and well in these past few years since Baron Edgar's death, Baroness Avisa. Don't fret; I shall do my utmost to take your personal preferences into consideration while I decide on the matter, though please understand that the best interests of both Kinlochan and Godwyn Hall must come first."

She nodded, though she still looked worried. "I understand, Sire." Avisa straightened, and a squire stepped forward discreetly to usher her out of the Royal Presence.

#

As soon as the door had closed behind them, Kelson's gaze returned to my face. "Sir Sextus," he said evenly, "I believe you're a little late reporting back to me on the Levington matter, are you not?"

I watched him warily, wondering how much he already knew about that. "I…uh…can get that report to you by the end of the week, Sire. We've just…um…been traveling around quite a bit of late…."

"So I gather." Kelson studied me with interest. "I trust that a previous betrothal to Lady Jennet is _not_ going to prove an impediment to any hopes Lady Avisa might harbor in that regard?"

My cheeks flamed. "No, Sire, none at all. Any…ah…rumors of such a pre-contract between Lady Jennet and myself are quite spurious. The lady was…um…at one point hopeful she might be able to maneuver me into such a match, but….um, no, Your Majesty. Hell, no!"

If Kelson was amused, the only hint of it was a slight crinkling at the corners of his eyes. With a start, I realized he'd been Truth-Reading me as I spoke. Had some word come back to him, then, of Lady Jennet's claim to a betrothal in Countess Celsie's court, or had Kelson just managed to hit upon that awkward question by happenstance? No, surely not. He'd heard _something_, I just didn't know exactly what yet, or from whom.

"Well, that's good. Good to know you've not taken _complete_ leave of your senses." Was my mind playing tricks on me, or was there slightly more emphasis than usual on that drily spoken word 'complete'?

"You...ah...have met the lady, then?" I asked him, trying to look nonchalant.

"Yes. Quite recently, in fact." How recently, though, Kelson left it up to me to guess. He leaned forward in his chair, studying me with narrowed eyes over steepled fingers. I swallowed. Years of observation told me this posture, coming from Kelson Haldane, was not a good sign. "Did you incur any greater expenses than usual while locating and securing Lady Jennet and returning her to her father's care?"

I shook my head, wondering where he was going with this line of questioning. "No more so than usual, Your Majesty."

"Not even during your sidetrip? I understand you gave Lady Jennet the scenic tour back to Levington from Desse. By way of the Earldom of Derry, it seems. A bit of a cross-kingdom tour, isn't that, or do I need to refresh my knowledge of Gwyneddan geography?"

_Ohcrapohcrapohcrap!_ "I...ah...may have encountered a few difficulties along the way in persuading the lady to return to her father. She is...um...a rather bloody-minded sort."

Kelson nodded. "Which is why you ought to have been perfectly matched to deal with her. I would like to hear, in your own words, please, and preferably laying out the logic in a way my simple mind can understand—assuming anything remotely resembling logic ever entered your thinking—exactly why you felt the Countess of Derry needed to become involved in the Levington matter."

Sarcasm ill becomes a Haldane, but as this particular Haldane happened to be my King, I could hardly share that observation with him. Not that I didn't feel free to speak my mind before this man at other times and under different circumstances, but this day, far too much was riding on his good opinion of me.

And that good opinion, I knew, rode on me taking responsibility for my own actions, no matter what the potential consequences might be. I knew that, yet the next words I spoke were the hardest truths I'd ever had to say to Kelson Haldane.

"There was no logic in my decision. I screwed up, pure and simple. I acted on the urging of my heart rather than following my head. The maiden didn't wish to wed, and after seeing her suitor, I could understand why. I realize now there were better ways of dealing with the situation, but at that moment when I had to make a choice to intervene or to simply ride away, it wasn't Lady Jennet I was thinking of. It was my sister Javana, and the hell she lived in for seven years all because my brother and I thought we knew what was best for her and gave her to the wrong man." I stared at the ground, feeling sheepish. "I didn't want to feel responsible for any other woman being trapped in an odious marriage, even if it was a lawful match to a man who was simply repugnant, not criminal. Not even _that_ woman."

He leaned back, still watching me intently, and the corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly, but aside from that, I couldn't begin to guess at his thoughts. His mind was thoroughly shielded from me. "I guessed it was something of that sort. You've served me quite well over the years, Sextus, so this seemed quite out of character for you, even given your...ah...rather unorthodox means of handling your missions at times. Tell me, though, have you a penchant for wearing hairshirts? Flagellating yourself in the privacy of your chamber for your many sins? Perhaps fasting on bread and water for months on end while kneeling for hours on the stone floor of some musty undercroft?"

I stared at him, utterly baffled. "_Me?!_ No, Your Majesty. Why do you ask?"

His lips twitched again, this time softening his expression into what might almost have been a smile. "Because I would imagine traveling all the way from Kinlochan to Derry with both Lady Jennet and Lady Avisa must have been a quite singular form of self-mortification. And Lady Avisa _still _wishes to marry you?"

My heart warily started to beat again. "Unlikely as it might seem, Sire, apparently she does."

"Hm." Kelson rose, turning his back on me to walk over to the window, staring out at the cityscape below. "As much as I'd hate to disappoint a lady, there's a possibility my Council might have some problem with that."

My heart stopped anew. "Might I ask why, Sire?" I asked once I could speak again.

He turned his head partially, not quite facing me, though he watched me over his shoulder. "Those who know you far less well than I do are likely to say that you're nothing but a wastrel. A mere fortune-hunter hoping to improve his standing in life by marrying above his station." He turned then, raising a hand to silence my objections before I could voice them. "And yes, it's hardly unusual for a man of lesser estate to seek to improve his fortunes through an advantageous marriage—in fact, it's quite expected—so no need to rail about the hypocrisy of such an objection being levied against you. The difference, you see, is that most such men, in addition to marrying well, also actively seek to cultivate the respect of other men at Court so that the rewards they gain in a good marriage are more likely to be seen as merited, not undeserved. _You_, on the other hand, have never really cared all that bloody much what anyone else thinks of you, aside from myself. Have you? Or at least if you have, you've done your damnedest not to show it." The Haldane eyes stripped me to my soul. "Even your own brother and uncle underestimate you. You attained your majority nearly half your lifetime ago, yet they still treat you like some rash youth. Why? Because you've made little effort to show them you've grown past that stage of life. If I were to venture a guess, I would say that among all of your relations, only your sister Jashana has any notion that there's much more man to you, hidden in your depths, than what you care to show the world on your surface."

Kelson allowed me to reel in shock for a long moment, absorbing the verbal assault, before continuing on. "Quite fortunately for you, Lady Avisa also apparently sees someone different when she looks at you. She looks beyond the masks and posturing to the _real_ you. The Sextus Arilan that you damn well need to start letting others see if you ever want them to see you as worthy of such a wife. How she ever figured out there was anyone in there worth bothering with, I have no idea; Lady Avisa's far too bright to be simply taken in by a handsome face or a charming personality for long, though, so she's bound to have caught a glimpse of _something_ worthwhile in you despite your best efforts to conceal it." He gave me a wry smile. "There some fine gold under all that crap you pile on so thickly. Start letting it shine through, man."

I shuffled uncomfortably. "I'm not sure I'd know how to make myself over into the perfect courtier at this point, Your Majesty. I have little patience with Court games and politics, and that's bound to show through."

"So don't play them then." Kelson gave an amused snort. "God knows _I _wouldn't if I didn't have to. I'm not telling you to change who you are, Sextus; I'm simply saying you wouldn't be in this predicament right now if more people actually _knew_ who you truly are, rather than just the man you pretend to be. If you don't want them to see you as Sextus Arilan, Sir Seisyll's lesser brother the unworthy wastrel who is hoping to find his fortune under a woman's skirts, then don't be that Sextus they're expecting to see. Show them Sir Sextus Arilan, the man who rightfully earned his belt and spurs, and who hopes to earn the right to wed a prize of a lady as well." He raised an ebony brow at me. "You _would_ consider Lady Avisa quite a prize, I hope, and not simply due to her land and wealth? If not, then forget everything I just said; she deserves someone who can properly appreciate her."

"I'm not seeking her hand because I'm hungry for her lands, Sire. It's a love match."

He nodded. "Good. She deserves some happiness." Kelson returned to his seat, picking up one of the documents on his desk to give it a quick skim. "So, when are you planning to have the banns read? Or do we need to hammer out a proper betrothal agreement first?"

"When am I...? But..." I stared at him, utterly confused. "I'd wed with her tomorrow if I could, Sire, but...didn't you just say the Council would likely be opposed?"

Kelson glanced up from his reading with an expression that on any other man I'd count as a smirk. "Indeed, I'm sure several of my Councilors will be. Quite fortunately for you, the decision of whether to approve Lady Avisa's marriage to you or not isn't theirs to make, but mine." He set the document back down. "Nigel would back you, if anyone were to make a serious objection; he, at least, had enough of an opportunity during your squire years to test and know your true mettle. And although you've only been in Lady Avisa's service for a short time, the latest reports from Kinlochan would prove to most men's satisfaction, I should think, that you're capable of accomplishing far more than wenching half the night while overimbibing pints of stout." He raised a brow at me. "I've just amused you. How?"

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. "I'll own to an overfondness for the pints of stout from time to time, but wenching for half the night might be a tad excessive, even for me, _especially_ if I've been consuming copious pints of stout. I'm twenty-seven now, not sixteen."

"Yes, thank God!" Kelson rolled his eyes. "No need to warn the chambermaids about you anymore." He gave a mildly amused snort, shaking his head. "There's one more matter, Sextus, that we need to settle before I can give your lady her answer."

"What matter, Sire?"

The King sighed. "I've never properly rewarded you for your years of service to me, and most especially for your handling of that matter in Caerdraig last summer." Even in the privacy of this tower chamber, I noticed he did not allude to Baron Walter's execution directly. Not surprising, since even though his squire remained discreetly just beyond earshot and was well trained not to spread anything he might happen to overhear—indeed, was almost certainly under Deryni controls that would not permit such a breach, even by accident—Kelson clearly intended the matter to remain secret even from his own household. "I realize you had your own personal motivations as well; nonetheless, you took a great risk in handling that matter, and I'm not simply referring to the physical dangers. Normally such service as you've shown me would have been rewarded long since, and in a much more public manner; however, due to the nature of those services, it's been hard for me to find a way to suitably reward you yet find some reasonable justification for that reward that would satisfy public curiosity. And I must have _some_ justification, you know; otherwise, simply bestowing favors upon you for no apparent reason would smack of unmerited favoritism, which would breed jealousy. And your damn wastrel act hardly helped matters at all. What would the Court have thought? Good things come to those who behave badly?" He gave me a wry grin. "But on the other hand, if I'm to have half my Council think I've lost my bloody mind in approving your marriage to Lady Avisa, I may as well remove all doubt by giving you a wedding present. We'll call it that, at any rate. Though privately, you and I will both know that you've long since earned it for your service to the kingdom, even if I can't make that a matter of public record. Those who choose to think more charitably of my sanity can look at it as a token of my esteem for your lady, if they prefer."

"I...What sort of 'wedding present,' Sire?"

He glanced down at the document again. It was a map of the Duchy of Haldane, I now noticed.

"How does Braxton sound?" He looked back up at me. "It's not far from Godwyn Hall, only an hour's ride distant, and the manor was until recently held by Sir Spencer Casey, but he died without issue and with no close relations to inherit after him, so the property has reverted to my keeping." The gray eyes gleamed in mild amusement. "While I don't mind having the extra income, I'll gladly spare it if having your own manor will help to keep you occupied and out of mischief. More so than Lady Avisa is already planning on doing, that is. Especially since I suspect _her_ method for keeping you out of mischief is quite likely to result in sons, and they'll require something to inherit."

I grinned. "There _is_ that consideration, Sire. And I'm honored by the 'wedding present.' Quite honestly, I'm simply grateful you've granted permission for the wedding, but having land of my own to bring to the match will help make my situation less awkward.'"

"I considered making you sweat a month or two longer to make up for that debacle of a mission you just carried out, but Lady Avisa doesn't deserve that. Still, Sextus, if you _ever_ make the sort of muck-up of one of my missions again that you did with the Levington case, you can expect the consequences to be far less pleasant next time around."

I nodded. "Yes, Sire." A sudden thought hit me. "Do you happen to know if Lady Jennet will be wedding Lord Benedict the Younger after all? I believe that was her father's latest choice for her."

"I believe so, yes."

"Hm. If you're considering a wedding present for them as well, I'd suggest a set of spaulders for Lord Benedict."

Kelson arched a brow at me. "An unusual choice. Might I ask why?"

I slipped the neckline of my tunic and undershirt off one shoulder so he could see what was left of the bruising from Lady Jennet's bite. "Unless she likes him a hell of a lot more than she liked me, he'll probably need the armor."

#

At a nod from Kelson, the squire at the doorway exited, returning in a few moments with Lady Avisa. She looked worriedly from the King's face to mine, then relaxed visibly as I gave her an encouraging smile. The squire closed the door behind her. Kelson beckoned to her to come forward and she did so, dipping into a low curtsey as she entered the invisible circle of the Royal Presence.

Kelson walked around to the near side of the desk, gesturing for her to rise. She straightened, glancing at me again. "Baroness Kinlochan," he said formally, "is it your intention to take Lord Braxton as your wedded husband?"

"Yes, Si—" She stopped suddenly, looking puzzled. "Lord…Braxton, Your Majesty?"

Kelson chuckled. "Forgive me, my lady. I meant to say Sir Sextus Arilan, Lord Braxton." Gray eyes grinned down at her. "That scapegrace standing next to you."

"Oh!" Her smile lit up the room. "Yes, Your Majesty, I will. With all my heart."

"I daresay he feels the same, but let's ask him." Kelson turned towards me. "Sir Sextus, do you intend to take Lady Avisa as your wedded wife, and will you promise me you'll handle this responsibility far more capably than you handled the matter of the Levington chit?"

I gave a reluctant smile at the dig as Avisa burst out laughing. "Dear God, I certainly hope so!"

"The usual answer is 'I will,' Sextus, but I'll take that as a 'Yes.'" Kelson glanced at his squire. "Would you send for Father Nivard?" As the youth bowed and left the room, the King added, "Technically those statements of intent should qualify as a betrothal already, especially since they've been witnessed, but it wouldn't hurt to formalize them with more standard vows made in a priest's presence. And in the meantime…." He pulled an empty sheet of parchment from his desk and picked up a pen. "Let's see if we can work out some reasonable betrothal contract between us, shall we?" Kelson gave me a shark-like grin. "I shall, of course, be negotiating in favor of the lady's interests, so don't give me cause to gut you, Sextus."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

_July 5, 1134_

_Tre-Arilan_

Grub giggled as I whispered the final details of the plan to her. She nodded with enthusiastic approval, the motion bobbing her deliberately lopsided braids to comical effect. Avisa rolled her eyes at both of us, though it was clear she was having trouble stifling laughter. There was another woman in the party. I had no clear idea where Avisa had found her, but by the looks of her, evidently she'd been plying her trade in some back alleys of Rhemuth, and by my guess, not very successfully. She smiled at me, proudly displaying three missing teeth. Clearly the coin purse Avisa had given her, with the offer of filling it with more coin once our need for her assistance was over, had made her quite kindly disposed to our unusual venture. Every so often she felt the need to fish it out of her ample cleavage to ensure it was still there. The coin purse, that is, not her cleavage. Given the state of her clothing, that was impossible to miss.

"So, do you understand your part in all this?" I asked the woman.

"Aye, luv, I'm tae marry ye." She gave me a bold once-over. "Shouldnae be much of a hardship, that."

I rubbed the bridge of my nose, wondering if maybe I'd got in over my head again with this idea. Avisa replied, sparing me the need to. "You won't actually be marrying Sextus, you understand. All we need is for his brother to _think_ he intends to wed you, then we'll take it from there."

"His _brother's_ meant tae think _he'll_ wed me? How are ye gonna convince him o' _that_?"

I buried my face in my palm. "Look, we'll explain later. For now, when we go in to see my brother, can you just _pretend_ you're crazy about me and eager to become my wife? Even though that's not going to happen. Ever."

"No?" She looked briefly disappointed, then perked back up. "Wha' about a quick tumble, then, luv?"

"No!" Avisa and I answered in unison.

#

I entered first, making a few inquiries of the first person I saw, who was our manorial steward. He appeared happy enough to see me.

"Will you be staying long, Sir Sextus? Shall I have your room prepared?"

"No need, Matthew. I'm just paying the family a quick call.

He smiled. "There's a lot of that going on today. The Ban-Tiarna and her lord are here as well for a brief visit."

I was surprised by that. "My sister Jashana is here?" I stifled a smile at Matthew's order of precedence. Ard-Tiarna Mihall of Llyr, of course, would normally have been announced first in any Court of the Eleven Kingdoms, but Matthew had served as our family's steward since our childhoods, and in a private conversation with one of the Arilan sons, strict adherence to formality evidently flew out the window. For Matthew, at least, Jashana would always take higher precedence despite Mihall's greater rank, being family.

"She and her husband arrived earlier this morning." Matthew beamed. "Your sister is expecting an heir—or, rather, an heiress—sometime in November, and Lady Sophie has set aside a few items to pass on to her, so they've come to collect them. They're upstairs in the solar. I'm sure they'll be delighted to hear of your arrival, my lord."

"No, no, don't announce me!" I grinned. "I'd prefer to surprise them, if you don't mind. No need to escort me upstairs."

Matthew bowed. "As you wish, my lord." He withdrew, returning to his tasks. I waited until he'd moved out of sight, then gave the signal for Grub and the hired woman to join me. Avisa followed also, though at a slight distance, for she was going to serve as lookout until the moment was right for her to reveal herself. "It just occurred to me that I don't know your name," I whispered to the hired woman as she approached. "What should I call you?"

"It's Hortense, m'lord." She grinned. "I'm told it means 'garden.'"

I stifled a laugh. It did indeed, and judging from the reek of her perfume, she'd quite taken that to heart. She smelled like she'd rolled in every flower bed between Rhemuth and Tre-Arilan. "All right, Hortense, just follow me upstairs. The situation has changed from what I expected—it seems a private meeting with my brother in his study will no longer be possible—so we might need to improvise a bit. Just follow my lead." I glanced down at Grub. Avisa had done an impressive job with preparing my child for this visit, if by 'impressive' one meant equipping the lass with worn-out boy's clothing, threadbare and dirt-stained, the tunic too short to fully cover the dingy, stained braies worn underneath, and the chausses barely long enough to tie to the fraying waistband. One untidy braid began several inches higher on her small head than the other, and both were secured with twine, with a sad, faded ribbon threaded through one braid as if in random afterthought. In short, Grub looked exactly as Seisyll probably expected she'd look after two months in my keeping without Sophie's patient hand-holding every moment of the day.

At the top of the stairs, I motioned for Hortense to linger behind until I called her into the room. I planned to make a grand entrance of it. Flinging open the solar door, I dragged Grub in after me. "You were right, Seisyll," I proclaimed dramatically. "I can't take it anymore. It's much harder than I thought it would be, this fatherhood business, and I simply can't do it alone."

Every eye in the room swiveled towards me. There was a shocked silence, then a stifled giggle from one corner and a small gasp from another. I glanced towards the giggle first. It was Jashana, a huge grin nearly splitting her face. "Hello, dear brother. Is this my niece or my nephew?" Beside me, Grub giggled back and reflexively dropped a polite curtsey, almost spoiling the effect of appearing before my family dressed like an undomesticated street urchin, though fortunately the effect of a curtsey while wearing a short tunic and chausses was so ludicrous, the polite reverence merely heightened the overall impression instead.

I turned towards the other corner. Sophie sat looking stunned, one hand held loosely over her mouth, looking torn between amusement and horror. Seisyll, recovering from his initial shock, was swiftly moving towards indignation. He raised his brows at me. "You surely aren't hoping to move back here, are you? Have you lost your position at Kinlochan already?"

"No, no, it's not that...if anything, I suppose you could say I've got a promotion of sorts..." I suppressed a smile as a skeptical look crossed my brother's face. "Thankfully, the increase in salary means I can afford to take a wife now. Not that I was really looking for one, mind, but there's a daughter to think of now..." I shrugged. "And _someone's_ got to keep the chit in hand while I'm hard at work. I can't do it all myself, you know."

Seisyll turned a look of foreboding towards his wife before looking back at me. "So you're hoping I can arrange something that will suit? Perhaps introduce you to some of the knights' daughters at Court?" He looked as if he dreaded the task, doubtless trying to figure out which knight he could most afford to risk turning into a permanent enemy by offering up his wastrel brother as a potential son-in-law.

"No, no, saved you the trouble, picked my own woman, you see. Hortense, darling, come meet my family!"

Whatever coin Avisa had lavished on this woman, it was worth the expense. Hortense sashayed in with all the brazen confidence of a woman accustomed to doing unmentionable things in unspeakable places, giving my brother a bold once-over before turning her gaze towards Michael of Llyr. "Ooh, yummy!" she purred.

Mihall's lips twitched and unholy mischief gleamed in his eyes. I knew I'd be hearing about this later. Seisyll's eyes widened, and his jaw dropped momentarily. He collected himself with an effort. Sophie colored and dropped the hand covering her mouth a few inches lower to press against her bodice. I wondered if she was hoping somehow to vicariously cover Hortense's abundance of exposed cleavage with the gesture.

"You can't...are you?...you're not..." It was difficult to determine what Seisyll was trying to stammer out, but whatever it was, it was silenced by mute horror as Hortense stroked my arm and laid her perfume-redolent head against my shoulder.

"I'm honored tae meet ye fine folk, sure an' I am! I'll take good care of our sweet Sextie, really I will. Ye can count on me tae take care o' him in every way possible." She batted her eyelashes up at me.

I grinned back. "Indeed you do, sweeting. In _every_ way possible. Including that new Bremagne techni—"

"SEXTUS!" Seisyll had recovered enough to roar.

Jashana couldn't hold back any longer. She burst out laughing. "Seisyll, he's just winding you up. He's not really intending to marry." She grinned at me. "Are you?"

Hortense looked up at me for her cue. Grub smiled winningly at Jashana. "Oh, yes he is!"

"Grub needs a mother," I persisted, though now that Jashana had seen through my act, I figured the jig was nearly up anyway.

"Grub?!" Sophie looked startled, and I suddenly realized my family had never heard me use the nickname. Not surprising, since I'd not seen them since moving from Tre-Arilan, and my infrequent correspondence had only referred to my daughter as Amanda, if at all.

"I'm certain she does," Jashana said. "But I'll also wager my last penny that Grub's future mother, whoever she might be, isn't in this room right now."

"No," said a laughing voice at the doorway, "but she's about to be."

I whispered my thanks to Hortense, slipping a small gold coin into her cleavage. She retrieved it, her eyes huge, then gave it a bite to verify its authenticity and grinned, dipping into a clumsy curtsey before stepping to one side to fumble inside her bodice for her coin purse.

"Family, may I present my affianced wife Avisa Moreau, Baroness Kinlochan?" The door opened, and Avisa stepped in, her eyes brimming with suppressed mirth. "Avisa, sweeting, meet the rest of my family—God help you!"

#

"How did you know?" I asked Jashana once the surprised hubbub had died down, Hortense had been released to await our return along with the coachman, and Seisyll's color had subsided from an alarming shade of crimson to something more closely resembling his normal complexion.

She laughed. "I know _you_, boyo. You may be no saint, but you've never been _that_ undiscriminating, even as a randy youth let loose in Rhemuth for the first time! Sweet Jesú, where did she find that perfume?"

"What I want to know is, why the act?" Seisyll asked, still looking a bit out of sorts. "What purpose did that serve?"

"Forgive me, Sir Seisyll, but that was actually my idea," Avisa told him.

Seisyll stared at her, surprised. "Yours, my lady? But...why?"

Avisa smiled at him with a faint look of challenge in her eyes. "Be honest, my lord. Let's suppose Sextus had simply come home and announced to you that he intended to wed. What sort of woman would immediately cross your mind as his most likely choice—someone closer to Hortense, or someone you'd consider perfectly respectable and suitable for a lord's wife?"

"I...well..." Seisyll looked at me. "Sextus has a long record of making unfortunate choices in the past, I'm afraid." Noticing Avisa's raised eyebrow, he hastily added, "Though I assure you that I heartily approve of his more recent choices. They give me hope he might be learning to be more responsible."

"It could be he's become more responsible simply because he's been given greater opportunities in which to prove himself, and in his own way." Avisa squeezed my hand. "Not to mention he's had more motivation to prove himself and his capabilities lately, whereas before, it was more to his advantage to act below everyone's expectations. How else was the poor man to have any sense of freedom and control?" She gave me a sympathetic smile.

Seisyll looked baffled. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'm not following you."

Avisa gave me an encouraging look, saying nothing more. I sighed, hoping I could articulate my position in some way my older brother could understand. "Look, Seis, it's like this. Ever since Father died, we've had all sorts of expectations piled upon us. Maybe it might have been different if we'd been older—hell, if I'd even _known_ the man—but you were only four and I was just a few months old when you became Laird of Tre-Arilan and I became your heir apparent. Oh, sure, we didn't have the responsibilities to go with the titles yet, but all those expectations were there, piled high on our tiny shoulders. It was like...like we never really had a chance to be children, or at least it wasn't the sort of carefree childhood that might have made the assumption of those duties easier for us later on in life, when we were both more ready for them." I shrugged. "You dealt with those pressures in your own way, and I dealt with them in mine. I suspect your way led you to try your damnedest to be perfect, or at least as close to it as you could possibly manage, And if _you _had to live up to all those expectations, then you bloody well expected everyone else around you to do the same."

He nodded, a glimmer of understanding beginning to dawn in his eyes. "And your way of coping?"

"I went the opposite route. I figured there was no way I could live up to all those expectations and those examples held up to me—hell, I couldn't even live up to _you!_ How was I supposed to emulate some larger-than-life, heroic example of a father who I can't even remember, but who Mother and Denis always talked up as if Jamyl Sextus Arilan had always been seated at the right hand of God? So I didn't bother even trying. Instead, I learned it was a lot easier just to work towards minimal expectations. If I was going to disappoint anyway, I might as well have my fun in doing it, and if by some chance I put forth extra effort and did well in some areas, you'd all be pleasantly surprised even if my efforts ended up falling somewhat short of perfect."

Seisyll was quiet for a long moment. "I never realized you felt that way, Sextus," he said at last.

"You never asked." I considered that for a moment. "Though to be honest, even if you had, I probably wouldn't have owned up to it. I was too envious of you."

"Of _me?_" Seisyll looked startled. "But why? I know you never wanted to be the heir; Jesú, if I'd ever thought _that_, the look of stark relief on your face when I told you I had a newborn son would have disabused me of the notion in an instant!"

"No, you're right, it was never that. It's just...aside from a few incidents now and again, you mostly seemed to have it all figured out. You took on full responsibility for the family as soon as you were old enough to assume a man's role, and you made it seem almost effortless."

"_Effortless?_" Seisyll laughed. "I felt like I was swimming upstream against a rushing current the entire time. I still do, sometimes. Especially when I'm dealing with _you,_ you git!" He grinned.

Sophie laughed quietly. "Oh, I assure you Seisyll has a lot of doubts and uncertainties at times, just like anyone else. He's just more private about them."

Seisyll's expression softened as he glanced at his wife. "And without Sophie to help keep me sane, I'd probably have turned out to be even more of a git myself, in my own way. As a certain obnoxious younger brother of mine once reminded me, the trait seems to run in our family." A wry smile softened his words.

Jashana grinned as she looked up from straightening Grub's braids. "In the male members, yes, it certainly does. Thank God I'm having a daughter!"

"I hope you can pardon our unorthodox way of announcing our betrothal," Avisa said, addressing Seisyll once again. "It was very important to me that you see Sextus as I do. He really_ isn't_ hopeless. In fact, in the short time he's been a steward-in-training at my son's estate, he managed to impress all three of my senior stewards by bringing up some new ideas and methods for land and household management that they're hoping to implement next season to improve efficiency. He's won their respect, which is quite essential seeing as he's going to end up being their lord now until my son reaches his majority, instead of simply being another member of my son's extended household." Her eyes sparkled amusement at me. "Which isn't to say he isn't sometimes capable of astonishing stupidity—remind me to tell you later about our recent visit to your uncle and your sister Javana—but that's not his due to any defect in his natural intelligence, nor is it his default behavior, at least not when it's in his best interests _not_ to be a lout and a libertine."

"Oh, thanks sweeting! I love you too."

Mihall grinned. "Get used to the backhanded compliments, Sextus. Wives excel at that sort of thing."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

_July 15, 1134_

_Braxton House, Rhemuth_

I watched as two laborers carried a crate of Avisa's household belongings into the new, roomier lodgings I had secured for us in Rhemuth. "Upstairs, my lord?" one asked me.

I peered inside at the crate's contents, recognizing the stacked pieces of wood within as disassembled benches and stools. "Yes, this load belongs in the solar." A young chambermaid entered close behind the men, her arms laden with a large basket containing the embroidered seat cushions belonging to those furnishings. "Those also. You can follow the men up," I instructed her.

Nurse Moira came down the staircase. "Lord Sextus, you're wanted in my lady's bedchamber."

I suppressed a grin. With our wedding date still nearly a month off, as we'd wanted to wait until the chaos of the move was over and the household had fully settled into Braxton House and back into a regular routine before we left Rhemuth to enter married life and depart on our honeymoon trip, I knew Avisa was calling for me on matters of practicality, not pleasure. Still, I quite looked forward to being required upstairs for more enjoyable reasons than planning the placement of furnishings and supervising the household staff in scouring and readying the chambers. In the meantime, I still shared a bedchamber with Grub. Tempting though it was to move into my lady's chamber before the month was up, there was her reputation to consider. A child born too soon after our marriage would set tongues to wagging even more so than news of our upcoming nuptials had already started them up, so I sternly reminded myself of the need for patience.

Still, our new Braxton House had a delightfully situated private garden with a very shady arbor. It might serve for a late night tryst or twelve, as long as we could both remind ourselves of the need to wait for anything more than a few stolen kisses. I'd promised my brother I would be reasonably well behaved until Denis could solemnize our marriage vows. I'd never promised him I'd become a saint. Fortunately Sophie had assured me, with a deep blush and some giggling, that even Sir Perfect had unbent enough to steal a generous number of kisses before they'd been properly wed.

I entered the large bedchamber. Avisa's back was turned to me as she stretched on tiptoe to assist a chambermaid in securing the yards of canopy fabric to its supporting frame. I approached her stealthily until I drew close enough to wrap my arms around her, pulling her close to me. She squealed in surprise, and the chambermaid began to giggle, a blush suffusing her cheeks as she turned away slightly.

"I'm told you want me, my lady?"

Avisa grinned, clearly tempted to state the obvious but restraining herself in her maid's presence. "Yes, in fact; we could use your help in rebuilding the bed."

"Ah. Yes, I could help with that. I've quite the vested interest." Behind us, the maid burst into muffled laughter.

My betrothed flushed becomingly, her eyes dancing. "Behave, Sextus, or I'll shove you into the moat to cool off."

"You'd have to dig one first," I told her, bending to steal a kiss. "It's not worth the bother. Just have your maids pour me a nice, deep bath instead." I thought back on the charming scene I'd stumbled upon at Godwyn Hall. "One large enough for two would be perfect."

Avisa burst out laughing. "This is going to be the longest month in all recorded history, isn't it?"

I grinned. "Absolutely. All three weeks, five days, and four and a half hours of torment left to endure until our wedding night. Not that anyone is counting."

#

_August 10, 1134_

_Godwyn Hall, Duchy of Haldane_

I glanced around at the festively decorated Hall. Avisa's household had outdone themselves in preparing for their lady's wedding day, and the air was fragrant with fresh flowers from the manorial garden and fresh herbs scattered among the newly replaced reeds covering the floor. It was true that the manor was quite humble in comparison with the greater splendor of the Great Hall at Chateau de Moreau, and even somewhat small in comparison with my brother's manor house at Tre-Arilan, yet this manor was where my bride's heart lay and where the people who had always loved her best resided, so we'd chosen to have our wedding here. What Godwyn Hall lacked in stature, it made up for in enthusiastic welcome of our arriving wedding guests. Master James had completed the repairs to the guest wing just in time for the day's festivities, and chambermaids and manservants busied themselves with getting guests settled into their temporary quarters over the past couple of days. The wedding day had finally arrived, a gloriously fair day now shading into early evening, with even a mild breeze arriving to herald the setting sun, cooling the heat left over from a bright and sunny August afternoon. My uncle Denis, resplendent in his bishop's finery, had officiated over our wedding vows, exchanged on the front steps of the manorial chapel, though old Father Aelfred, Godwyn Hall's aged chaplain who had been the spiritual father of the manor since his youth, and who remembered Avisa's christening ceremony as if it had occurred only yesterday, had been given the honor of officiating the nuptial Mass afterwards. The two clergymen now sat together at a table nearby, heads bent together in conversation, probably sharing stories of our misspent youths judging by their frequent glances at Avisa and myself and their shaking heads and wry smiles. The rest of my family appeared to be similarly engaged. At one point Seisyll buried his face in his hands as Javana chortled over some story Jashana was sharing with great animation. I couldn't hear what they were talking about, but from Jashana's pantomimed gestures I gathered she was probably telling Javana about our unorthodox betrothal announcement with Hortense at Tre-Arilan.

My new in-laws, Lord and Lady Taggert, sat in a position of honor near the High Table, though not on the dais itself. They had arrived early that morning, and had spent most of the day in a seemingly bewildered daze, occasionally glowering at me, though I wasn't sure if that was due to having been excluded from joining us at High Table or whether they simply objected to me in general. Avisa had insisted that only our immediate family be seated on the dais on this special occasion to celebrate the new union of our houses, so in addition to the two of us, there were only our three children seated at our High Table. An unexpected late-arriving guest was also invited to join us, as was his due by right of his high rank and precedence, but he had declined with a laugh and the assurance that he was quite looking forward to not having to sit under the direct gaze of the public eye for once.

I glanced at my bride. She was radiant, her face aglow as she accepted the well-wishes of another guest who approached us at our High Table. On my other side sat Grub, looking tired. She had weathered the day's excitement quite well up until now, but her energy was starting to flag at last. Still, she smiled sleepily up at me as she caught my eye.

"Do I have to sleep in the nursery with Aldwyn and Taggert tonight?" she whispered.

"I'm afraid so." She certainly wouldn't be sharing my bedchamber on my wedding night! Still, she'd been sleeping in my quarters on most evenings since I'd had her in my keeping. "You're not worried about sleeping apart from me from now on, I hope?"

"No," she assured me solemnly. "You'll be all right. Lady Avisa will take good care of you. Just behave and don't steal the whole sheet in your sleep, all right? It's a very bad habit."

I turned away slightly, biting my lip to keep from laughing. "I'll do my very best not to, if you'll tell her not to start any pillow fights." I glanced at Avisa again briefly, then reconsidered. "On second thought, pillow fights might be quite fun." Especially if I'd get to wrestle her for the pillow. Not that I expected I'd even remember what we were wrestling over after the first few moments. I felt a rush of impatient anticipation and wished all our wedding guests would hurry up and eat so we could get on with the rest of the night.

Grub raised an eyebrow at me, looking oddly like Seisyll. "You want to _pillow fight_ on your wedding night?" She shook her head. "Six, you're weird. But I guess I can't really blame you. At least that would be more fun than all that yucky stuff other grownups do in bed together."

#

The unexpected, albeit welcome, guest to our wedding had been Prince Nigel. The King and Queen had been invited, although not really expected to attend, and they had sent their regrets, doubtless to the collective relief of Godwyn Hall's household staff, who had done wonders already in readying their manor for a wedding and an influx of family and close friends at fairly short notice but who would have been even more hard-pressed to make ready for a full royal entourage as well. But Their Majesties had sent Prince Nigel to convey their well wishes along with another responsibility the King had decided to confer upon me on my last day in Rhemuth.

A young man wearing the red and silver of my new Braxton livery dropped to one knee before me. "Jemmy Kitchener of Rhemuth at your service, my lord," he said, earnest brown eyes studying me curiously under a shock of light brown hair as Prince Nigel smiled approvingly down at him.

I studied the lad with equal curiosity. "Rise, Jemmy." I knew who he was, of course—most of the Court did, after that fateful summer day two years previously when a cook's apprentice had foiled an assassination attempt on a King and had found himself rewarded with the opportunity to be trained as a page and to gain an education. Now, having acquitted himself well under Prince Nigel's training in the royal page school, Jemmy was old enough to be squired to a knight. While Nigel had averred he'd have no objection at all to continuing the lad's training at the Castle, since Jemmy had shown Deryni talents on that day when he'd discovered the plot against Kelson, the King had decided it would be better for Jemmy to be placed in the household of a knight who could see to his Deryni education as well as his martial training. And in addition, Kelson had informed me privately, he thought Jemmy would be most useful to the Kingdom if I trained him more specifically in how to become a fact-finder. As he was of common birth already, I'd not need to teach him how to blend into the local population in a commoner's guise, and yet his more recent years in training under Prince Nigel had already given him sufficient polish to know how to fit in with the more rarified atmosphere of a Royal Court. "How was your journey from Rhemuth?"

The lad grinned. "Enjoyable, my lord. It's fair countryside. I've not been out of Rhemuth much yet, so I quite like having a change of scenery." Beside him, Prince Nigel chuckled.

"Yes, well, I assure you, you'll be seeing quite a lot of interesting new 'scenery' over the next few years, if you're in my service." I gave the Prince a wry smile. He gave me a knowing grin in return. "See that chestnut haired man in Godwyn Hall's colors, Jemmy? That's Master James, our steward here. I'm sure he'll find a lot of tasks to keep you occupied over the next few days until our guests leave and we're ready to make our way to Braxton Hall."

My new squire bowed dutifully and took his leave, making his way towards Master James to see how he could make himself most useful. Prince Nigel remained, drawing closer to the High Table to lean casually on the edge of it, his gray eyes crinkling with amusement. "If you're wondering, I'm standing here engaging in casual conversation with you to make a point," he whispered.

"A point, Your Highness?"

A low chuckle. "Your new in-laws turned up in Court a fortnight ago to lodge a formal protest over Lady Avisa's betrothal to you. It seems they'd hoped to renege on their prior agreement with her that she could choose her next husband, if she meant to give herself over to a ne'er-do-well. No, no, keep looking at me," he added as I started to glance at their table. He grinned, continuing in the same quiet voice. "Kelson had a word with them in private, but he also wanted me to make it subtly clear that the 'Arilan ne'er-do-well' happens to be in Royal favor. So _please_ don't do anything while they're here to make them decide we Haldanes are a mad lot."

I laughed. "I'll be on my best behavior, Your Highness."

He shook his head, his lips twitching slightly. "God help us, then. Just this once, Sextus, trying being on _my_ best behavior instead."

#

The interminable-seeming feast finally drew to an end. The women present sang wedding songs as they escorted my bride up to her bridal chamber, while Seisyll raised his goblet in a final toast. "May you have a happy and fruitful union, Sextus," he started out solemnly enough as the last of the ladies left the Great Hall, followed by Nurse Moira, who led the children out separately to ready them for their beds. As the door closed behind Grub, he added, "I trust I won't need to tell you how to go about that?"

Once the roar of laughter died down, I replied. "No, I think I'm well enough informed on that subject already, and feeling quite up to the challenge in fact, but thank you, brother."

Denis shook his head at us, though he was smiling. "I'm just glad you're finally married. I'll pray for poor Avisa's endurance."

Master James, standing behind me, gave a low chuckle and bent to whisper a quiet observation. "He doesn't know my lady very well yet, does he? I'll be praying for yours." I grinned up at my wife's half-brother as he straightened, his features composed into their regular expression of dutiful attentiveness, though a gleam of humor lurked in his eyes.

#

I was allowed to join my bride at last, and the nuptial blessing was prayed over us. The wedding guests now departed, leaving us mostly alone in the bridal bedchamber. Avisa called one of the chambermaids to her side as the rest of our visitors filed out of the room.

"Wait here for just a moment," she whispered to the surprised girl. "I may have a small favor to ask of you once everyone else has left."

"As you wish, m'lady," the girl replied, the bafflement in her eyes reflecting my own.

"Remain just outside the chamber door. I'll tell you what it is in just a moment."

"Aye, m'lady." The girl exited the room with the last of the guests, closing the door behind her. I cocked my head curiously at Avisa.

She smiled back at me, blushing. "Would you mind very much if we spend our first night together somewhere else?" She gestured towards the walls of our chamber. "The manor house is a bit…um…crowded tonight, and not as private as I'd like for our first night together…."

I thought I understood her hesitation, and had planned on setting up wards around our bed to provide more privacy, but some instinct prompted me to ask her what she had in mind before proposing that option. "I could solve that problem if you wish, but where else did you have in mind?"

Avisa beamed, looking relieved. "You'll need to dress again, but we won't go very far. Let's just say we're going adventuring again." She grinned, rising from our bed. I stared more than a trifle wistfully at my beloved's barely clad form, temptingly visible through the sheer fabric of her nightdress as she moved towards the doorway. "I'm just going to tell Cécy that we'll be staying the night elsewhere, so my maidservants won't be unduly alarmed if we're not where they expect us to be when everyone wakes up tomorrow morning."

#

There was a ladder propped outside the bedchamber window, I discovered shortly thereafter, and Master James stood at the bottom of it, looking thoroughly unsurprised. In fact, he was a more than willing accomplice in Lady Avisa's planned elopement from Godwyn Hall. Also waiting for us were Murray and Nutmeg, saddled and ready for our departure.

"Have you any idea how difficult it is to get a wool-stuffed pallet and a feather mattress across a stream and up into a tree without mishaps, my lady?" he teased as he helped Avisa mount.

She laughed. "None at all, James. That's what I have _you_ for."

He smiled. "I'll keep your whereabouts secret until noon tomorrow, but not a moment longer, so _please_ be wearing clothes when I send the staff to collect your belongings."

"Don't worry." Avisa grinned teasingly at me. "I don't want to start out newlywed life with sunburn in tender places."

#

The King Tree was garlanded with flowers and resplendent with hanging lanterns which shone like stars beneath its leafy branches as we walked up the slope towards it, turning the large oak into an enchanted fairyland. To my surprise, the area was lightly warded to both camouflage it and add a circle of protection around us. Nothing had appeared at all out of the ordinary about the King Tree and its surroundings until after we'd crossed the stream and I'd felt the faint tingle of the ward's energies as we crossed through them. I gave Avisa a questioning look, wondering where she'd learned that skill, for warding wasn't an innate Deryni talent.

"My father warded the area for us, once he heard what I was planning," Avisa said at my inquiring look. "The one who sired me, that is, not the one who raised me. He was afraid the lights might draw unwanted attention." She laughed. "Not to mention mosquitoes. I'm afraid I hadn't thought about those."

"He's still alive, then?" I had assumed that Master James had become Godwyn Hall's steward upon his father's death.

She nodded. "Yes, Master Jordan lives in the village now. He retired from the stewardship a few years ago—he's in declining health—but he still enjoys riding over the grounds every now and again on his better days." Avisa sighed. "He's quite curious about you, but he thought it best not to attend our wedding, as my parents would be there." Yes, that seemed most circumspect, under the circumstances. "Hopefully you can meet him sometime during our stay here, though, once our guests have left and before we head forth for Braxton Hall."

We climbed up to the platform in the King Tree, now transformed into an inviting bridal bed. Avisa's eyes glowed in the firelight from a nearby lantern as she reached for me. She smiled.

"Are you ready for the next stage of our adventure?"

I was more than ready. So was she. I answered her wordlessly, drawing her into my arms and opening my mind to hers. After a moment she followed suit, following my lead as we explored previously uncharted territory together, learning in each other's arms the simple yet profound magic of two Deryni uniting minds as well as bodies in shared love.


End file.
